“Is that a yes to my proposal?”

“It’s a maybe,” she said. “But … a strong maybe, I guess. Why is this so important to you? Most men wouldn’t go to such lengths to ensure a connection with their child. And you don’t have to, either. I won’t stand in your way of being a father, Logan. Not unless there were extreme, extenuating circumstances that forced my hand.”

“My father died when I was two,” he said, almost abruptly. “And he was married to someone other than my mother, though she didn’t know that for a while. There’s more to it, but the bottom line is that I want to offer my child a better foundation than what my father gave me.”

“You can do that without—”

“Please, Anna, don’t say no.” Logan’s body, every inch of it from head to toe, remained in a locked, tense posture. But his eyes … God, they yearned. Pleaded. “Allow me this honor.”

* * *

The Colorado Fosters: They’d do anything for each other … and for love!

Rock-A-Bye Bride

Tracy Madison

www.millsandboon.co.uk

TRACY MADISON is an award-winning author who makes her home in northwestern Ohio. As a wife and a mother, her days are filled with love, laughter and many cups of coffee. She often spends her nights awake and at the keyboard, bringing her characters to life and leading them toward their well-deserved happily-ever-after, one word at a time. Tracy loves to hear from readers. You can reach her at tracy@tracymadison.com.

To my entire family, with love and gratitude.

Contents

Cover

Excerpt

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

“Hi, Logan! I’m here to give you some news. Remember that one-night stand we had close to four months ago? Well, I’m pregnant, and you’re the father, so...”

Oh, good grief. Really? There had to be a better way to tell a man they’d created a baby together. On second thought, no, there wasn’t. She barely knew Logan Daugherty and therefore couldn’t predict how he’d react regardless of what words she used.

Anna Rockwood cringed and drove straight past Logan’s house for the third time in a row. She had to do this today. She worried that if she didn’t, she’d never find the courage.

Anxiety-induced nausea bounced around in her stomach, much like a runaway rubber ball. She rolled down the car’s window and gulped in a blast of fresh, cool October air. It helped to clear her head some, but didn’t do much for her churning stomach or jumpy nerves.

Morning sickness wasn’t the culprit, she guessed, but the length of time she’d kept her pregnancy a secret from the baby’s father. Initially, a tsunami of shock and fear and the oh-my-God-what-have-I-done type of recriminations had swarmed her thoughts and emotions, making it impossible to consider sharing her condition.

It was an awful lot to take in. Anna had never planned on entering motherhood as a single parent. Her mother had died when Anna was young, still in grade school, and the pain of that loss hadn’t fully dissipated. How could it? Everything had changed so fast for Anna and her two sisters—one younger, one older—without Ruby Rockwood’s calming presence in their lives.

Seemingly overnight, their father became a harsher, stricter, angrier caricature of himself, leaving little room for so much as a grain of happiness. All that remained was a series of increasingly tough days in which the girls did their best to stay as quiet and invisible as possible.

Thank God for Aunt Lola.

It had taken years for their maternal aunt to learn the truth of their home life, but once she had, she’d fought for and won guardianship. By then, Anna’s older sister, Elise, had become an adult and had left Steamboat Springs, Colorado, behind. But Lola had given Anna and her younger sister, Laurel, a home that was once again filled with warmth and joy.

Anna was grateful to her aunt for every last thing she’d provided, but the juxtaposition of her childhood—going from the mostly sweet, pure years from before her mother’s death to the painful, difficult years with her drastically changed father as the sole caregiver—had cemented Anna’s beliefs on parenting, and she wouldn’t have purposely chosen to raise a child on her own.

Okay, she wouldn’t be completely on her own. Aunt Lola would offer love and support. But even so, Anna couldn’t pretend this situation was ideal or what she had wanted for herself or the children she would someday have. It wasn’t. Simple as that.

What Anna had wanted, what she’d wished for, was the traditional family unit. Two parents, preferably who loved and respected each other, raising their child as partners.

Naturally, there wasn’t a darn thing she could do about that now. One night—her first night back in Steamboat Springs after living in Texas for years—that included too many drinks, a handsome cowboy and absolutely no willpower to speak of had altered her life forever.

It had been a terrific night. She couldn’t deny that, nor would she want to. She hadn’t planned on a baby, but that night with Logan was exactly what she’d needed at that point in her life. She’d moved to Austin shortly after finishing culinary school, following her then-boyfriend and his dreams, and for a long while, they’d made a decent go at being together. But they weren’t right for each other—a fact that became clearer and clearer as time went on.

They’d gone their separate ways relationship-wise close to two years ago, and suddenly one morning on her way to work, she’d realized that she had no desire to remain in Austin. Coming back here, though, to live with her aunt hadn’t been an easy decision. She’d felt out-of-sorts, dislocated, and had stopped in at a local bar before heading to Lola’s.

She’d met Logan. They’d clicked. Laughed and had more fun than Anna had experienced in a while. And before she even realized what she was doing, she’d followed him to his hotel, and they’d had...well, a lot more fun. Fortunately, she’d had enough wits about her to text her aunt. She’d let her know she was behind schedule, was safe and sound and spending the night at a hotel—that much was the truth, anyway—and would see her the next day.

But yes, when she discovered she was pregnant, she’d given herself some space to come to terms with her new reality, the future that awaited her and her child. Once the shock had abated from a raging boil to a roiling simmer, she decided to keep her secret a little longer. Smarter, really, to get through her first trimester safely before breaking the news.

She’d crossed the three-month threshold several weeks ago, and just the other day, she had finally told her aunt. It hadn’t taken much sleuthing to discover where Logan was living. As it turned out, his brother, Gavin, was married to Haley Foster, and Anna’s aunt was close friends with the Foster matriarch, Margaret. Her aunt had got Logan’s address, and now...here Anna was. And despite her nerves or her fears, she had to take the next step.

She had to tell Logan.

Sighing, feeling every ounce of what she was about to do, Anna braked at a stop sign and flipped on her right-hand turn signal. This time, she’d pull into Logan’s driveway and get out of the car. She’d gather the frayed strands of her courage and walk to his front door and knock.

And somehow, though she hadn’t quite figured out how, she’d find the words to tell him that their one-night stand had resulted in a baby. He deserved to know. That was his right, and whatever his reaction, she’d at least be able to start making plans.

Whether those plans would include an involved and loving father for her child...well, she supposed that was up to Logan. Oh, she’d give him the space and time he’d likely require to wrap his head around his new reality, because that was only fair. But she wouldn’t wait forever.

Before this baby—their baby—was born, Anna needed to know if Logan Daugherty was in or out.

* * *

Something in his world was going to have to bend real soon, because dividing his time between the Bur Oak Ranch—his family’s four-thousand-acre cattle ranch on the outskirts of Cheyenne, Wyoming, where he’d grown up—and here—Steamboat Springs, Colorado, where his half brother, Gavin, lived—was starting to take a definite toll.

Yawning, Logan towel-dried his fresh-from-the-shower wet hair before pulling on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. He was tired, true enough, but the three-hour-plus commute from here to Wyoming one week and back again the next wasn’t the issue.

He had responsibilities at the ranch, people who counted on him and a slew of expectations to fulfill. As the only child of the eldest child, he had been groomed from almost day one to take over the family’s ranching business when his granddad retired. Zeke Cordero might disagree, because he was a stubborn old coot, but after a near heart attack and his mule-headed refusal to slow down, that day wasn’t all that far in the distance.

What he should do was pack up and permanently return to his family and his duty. He hadn’t meant to stick around Steamboat Springs for months on end. But learning of his half brother’s existence, and then actually meeting Gavin, had changed just about every last thing.

Logan’s recollections of his father were less than sketchy. Made sense, as he hadn’t yet celebrated his third birthday when Denny Daugherty had driven his motorcycle over a cliff. To this day, no one knew if the man had taken his own life or if he’d tragically miscalculated his abilities and a combination of speed and rain-slick roads had caused him to lose control.

Maybe it shouldn’t matter which was the truth—after all, dead was dead—but to Logan, it mattered a helluva lot.

If it weren’t for the few photographs his mother had saved, Logan wouldn’t know what his father looked like. And he couldn’t even claim any true, solid memories of the man, just wisps of images and sounds and the oddball scent that would hit him out of nowhere.

Peppermint, of all possible scents, seemed to be his strongest memory link to the man who’d sired him. The reason for that, along with many other answers, remained unknown.

For most of his life, his mother hadn’t offered many details about Denny, in an effort to protect Logan. But just over a year ago, on the tail of Logan deciding to conduct his own search for information, she’d finally given in and opened up.

That was when he’d learned the details of his father’s accident, along with the fact that Denny was a married man and already had a son when Logan was born. Surprisingly, it hadn’t taken long—six months, perhaps—before Logan discovered his half brother’s whereabouts and had decided to pay a personal visit.

A strange visit, too. Until that evening, Gavin had no idea that their father had a mistress or another son. But he hadn’t called Logan a liar, and he’d listened with interest and curiosity and an open mind, and somehow, a faint connection between the two men had sprung into being.

Gavin was a newlywed, and he and his pretty wife, Haley, ran a camp for foster kids, which meant that his life was equally as hectic as Logan’s. Between the weight of their individual responsibilities, they just hadn’t been able to spend a whole lot of time together. Therefore, with the goals of creating a lasting relationship with his half brother and learning more about their father, Logan had chosen to separate his life temporarily into two distinct chunks.

Three months ago, after tiring of hotel stays, he signed a six-month lease on this house, which came fully furnished. He’d already decided to return home when the lease ended, but after this past week, he had to consider if even that held any logic. His family needed him in Wyoming more often than every other week, and he could afford to eat the remaining rent.

There wasn’t much more to learn from Gavin as far as their father went, as he was only a few years older than Logan and therefore his memories were few. But their relationship with each other was still taking root. Still growing. He’d have to hope they’d be able to continue what they’d started via emails, phone calls and the sporadic visit. And if so, there wasn’t a valid reason to continue living part-time in Steamboat Springs.

Especially not when his mother was against his being here in the first place and his thick-skulled, ailing grandfather was pushing himself harder than he should.

Logan’s cousins—a whopping eight of them—were beyond capable of banding together to step into his shoes. And the next eldest cousin, Blaze, could fully take over in the blink of an eye. As could any one of his three uncles, but they’d separated their duties long ago and weren’t all that fond of the idea of stepping into the lead role. Besides which, Logan seemed the only member of the family able to withstand Zeke’s blustering. All it took, really, was the ability to hold your ground and wait for the old man to see reason.

Long ago, when Logan was just a kid, his grandmother Rosalie said that he and Granddad were cut from the same cloth and that they shared the same steel-minded stubbornness.

And yeah, that seemed to be the case.

Regardless of why, Logan was both wanted and needed at the ranch. And he wanted to be there, so the choice shouldn’t require an excess of brainpower. But his gut insisted he wasn’t done in Steamboat Springs, Colorado, and that leaving would prove a mistake.

Maybe there was a compromise in the mix. Rather than returning home on a permanent basis now, he’d continue his weekly commute for another month. That would have him back at the ranch full-time just before Thanksgiving, which would serve the dual purpose of pleasing his mother and allowing him another few weeks to wrap up loose ends here.

It wasn’t the perfect plan, but it worked well enough to set Logan’s mind at ease. So, with the decision set, he paid heed to his grumbling stomach and headed for the kitchen. He’d grab a bite—assuming he had anything edible left in the house—and then check in with Gavin and Haley, to let them know he’d be leaving before the holidays.

Later, he’d come back here and deal with some of the responsibilities he could tackle remotely. There was an order issue from a supplier that had his granddad fuming and a potential red flag in a crop share lease Logan was trying to put together with an old friend.

A loud rap on his front door halted his thought process. Other than Gavin and Haley, and a few members of Haley’s family, Logan really didn’t know anyone in Steamboat Springs. And at this time of day, school should be in session, so his surprise visitor was unlikely to be a kid trying to sell wrapping paper or magazine subscriptions or cookies or whatever.

Probably a home-improvement solicitor of some sort, or a group of them, as they seemed to travel in packs. Well, they’d be on their way the second he explained he wasn’t the homeowner and therefore couldn’t approve any type of repairs on the property.

Readying the words, he swung open the door and without hesitation said, “No reason to waste your time, as I’m not the person you’re looking for.”

“Actually,” the woman on his stoop of a front porch said, her voice quiet but firm, “you’re exactly the person I’m looking for.” She blinked large brown eyes, cleared her throat and blinked again. “I’m not sure if you remember me, but we...ah...met at Mick’s Place, played some pool, and we... Well, that was back in June, so...”

Of course he remembered Anna. He’d thought about her far too often since that night—a rather enjoyable night, at that—and he’d seen her once or twice after. At the Beanery—a local coffeehouse—where she seemed to work, but she’d studiously avoided his gaze, so he assumed her preference was to be left alone. He’d stopped dropping in at the Beanery for just that reason.

“I haven’t forgotten, Anna,” he said, his tone more abrupt than intended. From curiosity and the sense of foreboding that was now heating his blood. “What can I do for you?”

Dipping her head, so her butterscotch-hued hair fell into her face, she said, “I... Well, that is, there’s something...” She wrapped her hands around her slender arms and squeezed, as if the action would instill strength. Or courage. She must have found both, because she lifted her chin and looked him dead in the eye. “I’m not sure if this is a conversation we should have in the doorway. May I come inside for a few minutes?”

In a flash of pure knowledge, Logan knew what she was there to tell him. He dropped his gaze to her midsection, looking for evidence to substantiate his premonition, but she wore a long, loose burnt-orange sweater that hung straight over her hips. Even with the oversize sweater, she appeared as slim as she had the last time he’d seen her.

Didn’t change anything on his end. He just knew, whether that knowledge held a lick of sense or not. And for a shameful second, he wished he was still in Wyoming. Or in the shower, so he wouldn’t have heard the door. Or anywhere but here. Because honestly, if his assumption was correct, he had enough on his plate. Enough responsibility, enough duty, without adding another. Specifically one as enormous and life-changing as a child.

But none of those thoughts would get him anywhere, so he shook them off. Perhaps, despite the surety of his instincts, Anna was here for a different reason and had an entirely different conversation in mind. Such as she was married, and her husband had just learned of her indiscretion and was now hell-bent on kicking Logan’s ass.

Except, as little as he knew about her, he didn’t see Anna as the type of woman to cheat.

Pushing out a ragged breath, he nodded and opened the door wider. “Sure. I have plenty of time for a conversation,” he said, keeping his voice even. “Come on in, Anna.”

He hoped he was wrong. God forgive him, he did. If he was right, though, and their night together had left Anna pregnant with his child, Logan saw only one possibility that he could live with. Just one that made any sense or held any honor.

Because despite every other responsibility, every other duty that demanded Logan’s time and attention, no way would any baby of his come into this world as he had.

Without parents who were married—if he had any say in that at all—and without the security and presence of a real, bona fide father.

Those were two legacies he’d do every last thing in his power not to pass on.

* * *

Okay. She’d made it to Logan’s driveway, knocked on his door and boldly invited herself inside. He’d led her to a small, somewhat ancient kitchen badly in need of renovating and had offered her coffee or tea. She’d asked for water, which he graciously supplied.

Now they were sitting across from each other at the rectangular red paint-chipped table tucked into one of the room’s corners, and he was being very quiet. Very still and watchful. His eyes—a delicious combination of gray smoke and warm blue—were hooded but steady as they appraised her. Waiting, she assumed, for her to open her mouth and start talking.

But the words weren’t there to be said, not in her head and not on her tongue. Instead, to gain a few additional seconds in which she might, hopefully, find her voice, she forced a smile and took a large gulp from the glass of water. Too large, as it turned out.

And the icy-cold water went down in all the wrong ways. A strong wave of queasiness crawled from her stomach to her throat, followed by another, and she had to clamp her lips shut to stop from gagging. It worked, barely, but she still emitted a wet, choking gasp.

No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. Not here and not now. Anna focused on the kitchen window, on the golden-red leaves of the tree directly outside. Swallowing hard, she breathed in through her nose in an attempt to calm the seasick sensation rumbling her belly.

“Anna? Are you okay?” Logan asked, his brow creased in concern. In a jagged movement, he raked his fingers through his short, dark brown hair and gave her a thorough once-over. “You look fairly green. What can I do for you?”

“Oh, I’m fine! I’m...I’m just...” She slammed her hand over her mouth and shook her head. Come on, she ordered herself, pull it together. Unless she found a way to do so soon, she was absolutely going to lose her breakfast on this poor man’s table.

Another fierce surge of nausea overtook her, causing her belly to seize up in rock-hard cramps and sending a series of cold shivers through her body, leaving her clammy and light-headed. She stood, fast, and managed to ask, “Bathroom? Where is it?”

Logan stood, too, instantly, and lightly took hold of her elbow. “This way,” he said, guiding her from the kitchen. They walked down a narrow hallway and through the first door on the right. He flipped on the light, saying, “There you go. I’ll be right outside.”

He exited the bathroom and closed the door behind him, giving her privacy. She sucked in a deep breath, still hoping the nausea would subside, and turned on the cold water faucet to full blast. She continued to slowly breathe in and out while splashing cool water on her face.

She thought, for a precious second, she might just make it through to the other side without physically becoming ill. But in another second, she learned—at least so far as pregnancy and morning sickness were concerned—her body ruled supreme over her brain.

Fifteen minutes later, after cleaning up and making use of the mouthwash Logan had left on the bathroom counter, Anna opened the door to the hallway. And there he stood, leaning against the opposite wall, his arms angled over his chest. Tall. Strong. Concerned.

“Better?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you,” she said. “Much better.”

“Good.” And then, making no bones about it, he asked, “When are you due?”

“March twentieth.” It seemed she wouldn’t have to actually speak the words after all. But so there was zero confusion, she needed to say, “And you’re the only person... That is, there hasn’t been anyone else, for almost two years before you. Or at all after, so...”

“We used a condom,” he pointed out. “Both times.”

“We did,” she affirmed, “but they’re not one hundred percent foolproof, as I’m sure you know. And I’ve had no reason to be on birth control pills for a while, and I don’t typically go to bars by myself, and I never—until that night with you—act so...um...spontaneously.”

Meaning, she didn’t go home—or to hotels—with men she didn’t know, regardless of how many drinks she’d consumed or how lonely and out-of-sorts she felt.

Never once in her life before meeting Logan. Well, she supposed there was always a first time. It was just her luck that her solitary step onto the wild side had coincided with ineffective birth control and a body primed and ready to conceive.

“I’m not sure it matters how or why this happened,” she said in a firm voice. “The facts are that I’m pregnant, and you are responsible for half of the DNA this baby carries. So, that’s why I’m here. I thought you should know.”

“Of course I should know.” He didn’t sound ticked off, really, or all that surprised. Just accepting and serious and maybe resigned. She got all three, as she felt the same and she’d known for months. “And why did you wait this long to tell me?”

“To be sure everything seemed healthy. To adjust. To make peace with the idea on my own first. Because—” she met his gaze with hers “—I didn’t know how to tell you.”

He nodded, closed his eyes and let out a short breath. “Sensible, on every account, and I understand.” Opening his eyes, he pushed himself off the wall. “But from here on out, I want to know every detail of how you and the baby are doing.”

“I think that’s fair, assuming you intend on being involved,” she said. “But we’ll have to have a conversation—several, probably—to figure out what that will mean.”

“Oh, without question, I intend to be involved.” His jaw hardened slightly. “In fact, my vast, overriding preference is for us to get married. As soon as possible.”

Married? Shock came first—at the ease of the proposition—followed by, strangely, a profound sense of relief at the one and only response Anna hadn’t anticipated. It settled deep in her bones. The sensation was that strong, that real. She shook her head, tried to make sense of his words and her reaction. “Am I hearing you correctly? You’re proposing marriage?”

“If there’s going to be a baby, then I think there should be a wedding,” he said without so much as a tremor of doubt or indecision clouding his tenor voice. “But—and I’m thinking aloud here—I don’t expect a lifelong commitment, Anna. A temporary marriage will suffice.”

“I see,” she managed to say. “Because you’re worried about my reputation?”

“I’m worried about establishing a connection to my child,” he said. “I can and will explain my reasoning, and if you need time to consider the possibility, that’s also sensible.”

She was crazy. Absolutely, certifiably nuts, because the idea sounded plausible. More than that, it sounded right. “If I were to agree, how long would this temporary marriage last?”

“My brain hasn’t gotten that far yet,” he admitted. “That’s something we’d have to discuss, if you’re not entirely opposed to the concept.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m opposed. I’m...I’m just trying to put this together in a reasonable fashion.” She pressed her fingertips against her temples. Was she seriously considering marrying a man she barely knew? Common sense tried to prevail, it did, but all she could think of and all that was in her heart was giving this baby something more than she was able to on her own.

A foundation, she supposed, to start life with.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“Lots of things. Like...would we live together, for the duration of the marriage?” What she didn’t ask, what she should have asked, was if he’d expect them to share the same bed. “Or would this be an on-paper-only type of commitment?”

“If you’re leaving it up to me, then yes, we would live together. As to the depth of our relationship—” he shrugged in such a manner that the action would have appeared nonchalant if not for the severe edge of his jaw “—a platonic union would be best. To avoid confusion.”

Relief and a strange thread of disappointment clashed. For obvious reasons, she chose to focus on the relief. “It would make the situation a lot less complicated.”

“Exactly.” Logan cleared his throat. “Assuming you agree, and to put everything on the table right from the start, I’d want our child to believe that our...brief commitment to each other was based on more than an accidental and untimely conception. That we were once in—”

“Love? Are you serious?”

“Think about it, Anna. If you were conceived from a one-night stand, would you want to know? I wouldn’t. I’d rather believe my parents were together for all the right reasons.”

“I... No. I wouldn’t want to know.” Maybe later, as an adult, when she could handle that type of information. But no, not as a child. And she couldn’t stand the thought of her son or daughter carrying such a burden. Sighing, she nodded. “I see your point.”

“Good. And to serve that purpose, again assuming this happens, I would prefer to have a real wedding. Small, naturally, but not at the courthouse.” He paused, giving her a full ten seconds to consider his words, before saying, “Can you agree to those terms?”

“Actually, yes, I can agree to those terms, but there’s a lot more to consider.”

“Right. We haven’t talked about finances yet, have we?” Logan said gruffly. “Naturally, I will provide whatever support is required, during our marriage and after. If that’s a concern.”

Wait. What? Now they were talking about money? God, how could he think so lightning fast? Her brain hurt from trying to process each bit of information as he threw it her way.

“It isn’t a concern,” she said. “I have family here, Logan. Support and love. Stability. With or without your involvement. So while I appreciate your offer, it’s important that you know I didn’t come here looking for money. I have a job.”

He arched an eyebrow. “At the Beanery?”

“Yes.” She waited for him to ask how much she earned and if it was enough to raise a child on. He didn’t, but then...he didn’t need to. Still, she felt the push to explain. “My aunt owns the coffeehouse, and it’s only a short-term position. Until I can find something else.”

Sooner or later, one of the city’s restaurants or the ski resort would have an opening for a pastry chef. Or a baker. Or...heck, almost anything related to the culinary world—in or out of the kitchen—that would make better use of her education and experience and offer better pay.

“That’s all well and good, Anna, but whether or not you’re employed doesn’t alter my financial obligation. Nor my want to do what is right.”

“I get that,” she said. “But I’ll only accept what is fair. This isn’t about money. It’s about my want for this child to have two involved parents who give a damn. So if this is...well...”

“Is that a yes to my proposal?”

“It’s a maybe,” she said. “But...a strong maybe, I guess. Why is this so important to you? Most men wouldn’t go to such lengths to ensure a connection with their child. And you don’t have to, either. I won’t stand in your way of being a father, Logan. Not unless there were extreme circumstances that forced my hand.”

“My father died when I was two,” he said, almost abruptly. “And he was married to someone other than my mother, though she didn’t know that for a while. There’s more to it, but the bottom line is that I want to offer my child a better foundation than what my father gave me.”

“You can do that without—”

“Please, Anna, don’t say no.” Logan’s body, every inch of it from head to toe, remained in a locked, tense posture. But his eyes... God, they yearned. Pleaded. “Allow me this honor.”

Whatever minute amount of indecision Anna had clung to vanished with these words, with the vulnerability she glimpsed in his eyes. How could she say no? Why would she? Their reasons might differ, but they wanted the same for this life they’d created together.

Before she officially said yes, however, she considered what she might require from this arrangement. She imagined the first year would prove the most difficult while she learned the ropes of motherhood, found her feet and, hopefully, a better job, and made plans for the future.

“Would you agree to stay married until the baby’s first birthday?” she asked, trusting her instincts. All of them. “By then, we’ll have had plenty of opportunity to consider how to best proceed after the...um...divorce, and it will give us time as a family. To bond.”

“Seventeen months, give or take? That’s all you’re asking for?” Logan’s brow furrowed in contemplation. “All you require to move ahead with this arrangement?”

“For the moment,” she blurted, feeling the first true strains of frustration. “I haven’t exactly had a lot of time to go through the various scenarios, now have I?”

“An excellent point, as I suppose I did jump the gun there, didn’t I? And we’re still standing in the hallway.” The corner of his lips twitched in wry amusement. “So, yes, Anna, we can stay married until the baby’s first birthday.”

“Then I accept your proposal.” She spoke quickly, before she could change her mind. Obviously, she’d never dreamed of having a shotgun wedding, but considering the circumstances, it was more than she’d expected. “I’m in. Supposing we can find a cohesive, workable way to becoming partners in raising a child. We have to be on the same team.”

They could manage that much, couldn’t they?

Logan scrubbed his palm over his jaw. “You’re sure?”

“Yes,” she said firmly, ignoring the rat-a-tat-tat beat of her heart. “I’m sure.”

Relief, deep and penetrating, clearly washed over him, as the tight hold he had on his body loosened. “Thank you, Anna. The words aren’t enough, I know, but they’re all I have. Other than my promise that we will make this partnership a success.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. “And I hope you’re right.”

“Hope isn’t a part of the equation. It’s about focused planning and aligning our goals.” He held his hand toward her. “To that end, we should get started on working out the details.”

“You’d like to do that now?”

“The sooner we understand what this collaboration will entail, the quicker we can move on to planning the wedding and—” he winked “—actually tying the knot.”

Right. The wedding. Her wedding.

She nodded but ignored his hand—touching did not seem like a good idea at the moment—and together, they returned to the kitchen. They took their prior positions at the table and talked for a long, long while. To Anna, it felt more a business negotiation than anything else, but she figured in reality, that was precisely what it was. And if a tiny, minuscule speck of dismay existed at her less-than-romantic wedding plans, she shoved the emotion away.

Why dwell on what she didn’t have—couldn’t have—with Logan? Especially when it was so much smarter to focus on what she did have: an honorable, reliable, responsible man standing firmly at her side. A man who wanted to provide the best he possibly could for their baby. A better man, perhaps, than she’d ever before known.

In Logan, she had a partner, and over time, she might be able to call him a friend, as well. Maybe even a good friend. So yes, it would be enough.

It had to be enough.

Chapter Two

Logan disconnected the phone call and sighed. How had everything become so damn complicated so damn fast? He’d just finished telling his mother about the baby and his upcoming wedding, and while Carla Cordero had expressed her support, along with a promise to be at the ceremony, she wasn’t jumping for joy over the circumstances.

Why would she be? She knew exactly where he stood, albeit wearing a different pair of shoes. Twenty-nine-odd years ago, she’d been the single woman facing an unexpected pregnancy. And she’d done the only thing she could: packed her bags, left Denver and returned home to her family. So yeah, he understood that she’d wanted different for Logan.

As well, despite the conversation—well, more of an argument—he’d had with his grandfather yesterday, he learned that Zeke was still smoking his cigars, ignoring his meds and flat-out refusing to go along with the low-cholesterol diet his nutritionist had supplied. His mother was anxious, dealing with Zeke and trying to keep Rosalie calm.

And he’d just added a freight train of stress onto her already loaded-down shoulders.

The presence of this baby did not alter the rest of Logan’s life. His family still needed him in Wyoming as much as possible, but returning on a permanent basis would now have to be delayed. To that end, he’d already talked to his landlord about extending the lease on this house for a full year. And, well, he also knew that he’d be spending a lot less time at the ranch than every other week. Anna would require him here, especially as her due date closed in.

On the plus side—not that there was ever a truly good time, because a ranch never went into full sleep mode—the timing of his absence could’ve been a whole lot worse.

While Bur Oak’s primary enterprise was cattle, they also grew hay and corn, and the last of this season’s crops had just been harvested. Fortunately, calving season didn’t start until late spring, months after the baby’s birth, and that was when he’d absolutely have to live at the ranch. Of course, there was a lot of preparation and upkeep required for both of the ranch’s enterprises. Repairs around the property and on machinery were a constant demand, the animals still required tending to and there was a whole mess of other day-in and day-out responsibilities.

None of which fell directly on Logan’s plate—between family and employees, everyone had a role—but he was the conductor of the whole symphony.

He supposed he’d tackle whatever he could, the best he could, and the people in his life would just have to pick up the slack. They would, without question, but that did not stop him from feeling torn by obligation. To his family and his duty, yes, but also to the love he felt toward the land he’d been raised on. That ranch was in his blood, as surely as his DNA.

Zeke had seen to that. From the moment of his birth, Logan had learned everything there was to know about Bur Oak Ranch. The legacy behind the land. The sweat and work and tears and pride that had gone into creating that legacy. The importance of continuing it.

And Logan was damn grateful. He could not imagine his life any other way, and he’d always been surrounded by family. Well...the Cordero side of the family.

The Daugherty side, on the other hand, not so much. Logan had never met his father’s siblings or parents or any cousins that might exist on that branch. And maybe he shouldn’t, but he felt connected to them just the same. Maybe due to Gavin. Maybe because he carried the Daugherty surname. Or because—and this was the more likely explanation—he couldn’t let go of the thought that if his father had lived longer, he would’ve behaved honorably.

Denny must have wanted Logan to carry his last name, or he wouldn’t be a Daugherty. Some would chalk that up to nothing but male pride on his father’s part, but Logan thought it went deeper than that. Hoped so, anyway, now that he knew more of the story.

Initially, in the months after his birth, his grandfather hadn’t allowed Denny to come within spitting distance of the ranch. But Denny refused to take no for an answer, kept showing up despite Zeke’s ire, and Carla would whisk Logan to a park or a restaurant or some other public location in order for father and son to spend time together.

Later, in the year before Denny’s accident, his grandfather had relented, allowing these visits to take place at the ranch. Zeke did not give up a fight—any fight—easily, so Logan had to figure that Granddad saw something in Denny to soften his views. There were photos of father and son playing on the living room floor. There were a few of Logan sitting on his father’s lap, being read to. There was even one of Denny and Logan conked out on the sofa together.

All of this had led him to believe that if Denny had lived, he would’ve eventually brought Logan fully into the Daugherty family, instead of keeping his existence a secret.

Yet he’d never know for sure.

Fortunately, his child would not have the same experience. Logan’s mother, grandparents, uncles and cousins would stand steady. And they’d do so until the day they died. Because damn it, that was what being a part of the Cordero family meant.

Logan’s child would never experience the doubt that he grew up with, wondering why his father hadn’t loved him enough to do what was right. Because even as a kid, he understood that his parents hadn’t been married. He just hadn’t known why. Back then, he’d blamed himself.

Now...well, now he knew better. But kids sensed when something in their world wasn’t quite the way it should be and, without ever saying a word, picked up that weight and carried the full brunt of it everywhere they went, causing all sorts of silent, damaging havoc.

And that right there was precisely why marrying Anna was so all-fired important. He never wanted his kids—regardless of how they came to be—to wonder if they’d been a mistake. And this temporary-marriage idea of his—while harebrained to a rather large extent—was about the best he could come up with to ensure that would not happen.

Logan stretched his legs and closed his eyes, his thoughts moving on to the other half of his child’s parentage. He knew next to nothing about Anna’s family. They’d spent nearly three hours talking, but every part of their discussion had revolved around the baby, their individual wishes and, of course, the year and a half or so that they would remain husband and wife.

Undeniably, they were entering this oddball relationship completely backward. Also irrefutable was the fact that their marriage would come to an end. But the way Logan saw it, their connection shouldn’t. They would—from here on out—always be involved in each other’s lives.

Just that fast, his curiosity about this woman caught on fire. His heart started beating a tad faster and a mite harder. Who was Anna? What were her dreams, her goals? What was her childhood like? Who were the first boy she kissed and the last man she loved?

Had she told her family she was marrying him? If so, had the conversation gone well, or were they—at this exact minute, perhaps—trying to convince her to back out of the wedding?

Well, hell. He did not like that possibility in any way, shape or form.

Logan opened his eyes and sat up straight. They weren’t supposed to talk again until the day after tomorrow, when they met for lunch to discuss the specific details of their wedding. But now that seemed too far away. Wouldn’t hurt anything to call her, would it?

He supposed in the world of possibilities, one existed in which, yes, a quick phone call could have a negative effect. The law of averages, however, rested largely in his favor.

Without giving the idea any further consideration, he found her number—which she’d given him earlier, when he gave her his—in his mobile and hit Send. She answered almost immediately, and the ragged edges of his anxiety disappeared into thin air.

“Logan?” she asked, her voice low and soft and sleepy. Warm, too. “Is everything okay?”

“I was about to ask the same question,” he said, matching the volume of his voice to hers. “How’d everything go with your family? I’m hoping it went well.”

“That would be my aunt Lola, as neither of my sisters is local. Nor are we very close,” she said with a small sigh. “Lola took it pretty well, I think. She’s concerned, of course, but she’s...um...pretty much on board. She even offered to buy my wedding dress.”

A plethora of questions begged to be asked, but Logan squelched them all. He wanted to hear about Anna’s sisters, her aunt, where her parents were and why she hadn’t mentioned either of them, but he didn’t need that information this second. Not when she sounded so drained and tired. “I’d say that’s a positive sign, wouldn’t you? I’m glad, Anna. I was worried.”

“Worried? Whatever about?”

“I don’t know. Maybe that after telling your family, you’d change your mind and decide to do this without my involvement.” He’d move heaven and earth, if necessary, to stop that from happening. “I’m asking a lot from you, I know.”

“Really?” she asked. “And here I was, thinking I was doing all the taking. But no, Logan, I haven’t changed my mind. I’m in this, so long as you don’t give me a valid reason not to be.”

“Such as?”

For half a heartbeat, he didn’t think she was going to respond. But then she said, “It would take a lot. You’d have to start storming around and yelling all of the time, or insisting on ridiculous rules that would be almost impossible for any child to adhere to, or... I don’t know...other versions of extreme behavior that wouldn’t be conducive to a healthy environment,” she said in a near whisper. There was strength there, too. “Then I’d bail without question or hesitation.”

“I see.” He was hit with a peculiar combination of emotions, and he wasn’t altogether sure which he felt the most acutely: sadness at the possibility that Anna’s childhood had included some of what she’d mentioned, or anger that she might think he was capable of behaving so erratically. It took some doing, but he dismissed both.

“Time will prove this, Anna, but I am not that type of man.”

“Most men aren’t,” she said. “But they do exist, and if I had any inkling you were one of them, I wouldn’t have agreed to marry you. Even on a temporary basis. I would’ve just said ‘No, thank you’ and gone on my merry way. My...heart tells me you’re a good man, Logan.”

“Again,” he said, “I hope time will prove that to you.”

Neither spoke for several minutes, yet the silence wasn’t uncomfortable or unnerving. It was almost reverent in its peace. The same feeling he had when looking out on a fresh blanket of snow coating his family’s land, when the world was quiet and calm and serene.

Finally, because he didn’t want this moment to become something less, he said, “I like you, Anna Rockwood. I think we’re going to do just fine.”

“I like you, too, Logan Daugherty. And I hope you’re right.” She yawned, and he could almost see her curled beneath a heap of blankets, her phone to her ear, her beautiful hair mussed around her head on the pillow. “I don’t want to mess up this kid of ours.”

“A goal we share.” They talked for another minute, mostly about their schedules for the next day, and then he said, “Sleep tight, Anna. And I know we have lunch planned, but do you mind if I call tomorrow night? Just to check in and see how you’re doing.”

“Oh. Please do. Night, Logan.”

They hung up and Logan tossed his phone on the end table. He couldn’t quite decide what to do with himself, as he wasn’t tired enough for sleep and he didn’t much feel like trying to put in a couple of hours of work. Odd how empty and silent the house seemed.

Too quiet. So he grabbed the remote and turned on the television, flipped through the channels and found nothing of interest. Nothing that would erase the yearning to call Anna back, stretch out in his chair and talk to her, or hell, do nothing but listen.

Frankly, he would’ve happily stayed on the phone for the entire night just to hear her voice, or if she fell asleep, the even, comforting sounds of her breathing.

Logan let that thought simmer for a few seconds before a rough laugh emerged. First, he’d been all but thrumming to learn as much as he could about her, and then he’d decided to call her out of the blue. And now...this? Breathing, for crying out loud? Really?

Obviously, impending fatherhood had made him a good deal more sentimental than his normal, somewhat contained self. It wasn’t entirely irrational, though. Some sentiment and awe toward his baby’s mother was to be expected. Natural and normal.

Therefore, it was likely that once the child was born, Logan’s sentiment and awe would redirect from Anna to the baby. Seemed a logical enough assumption.

What he couldn’t do was confuse this natural enough sentiment with delusions of actually falling for Anna. Such a scenario had the potential of creating a boatload of problems down the road. And he wouldn’t forgive himself if that happened.

Carla had believed that Denny loved her, that his intentions toward her were honorable and that, eventually, he’d tell his wife the truth. So they could marry and become a real family.

While Logan did not agree with his mother’s decision to continue her relationship with Denny after discovering he had a wife and son, he understood the myriad complexities of the situation. The bottom line, in Logan’s view, was that Carla had allowed herself to remain in an untenable position due to promises that Denny had not lived up to.

And his mother had never forgiven herself, nor had she completely excised the pain.

So no, Logan would not confuse his complicated situation with misguided emotions, despite his inane longing to hear Anna breathe. Come hell or high water, he’d live up to his word, his promises to Anna, and be the type of man—the type of father—Denny had failed at.

* * *

Tomorrow. Her wedding was tomorrow.

Anna tucked the multicolored crocheted afghan around her legs and watched her aunt, who sat across the room from her, seemingly lost in a book. They were at odds with one another, as they’d gone round and round on the topic of her wedding for the past two weeks.

Oh, when she’d told Logan that her aunt was “pretty much on board,” she hadn’t outright lied. Lola had offered to buy Anna’s wedding dress—which she had now done—and she would support Anna, regardless of whether she agreed with her decision. But no, she did not agree.

And Anna craved her aunt’s approval. In many ways, Lola had become her mother, and Anna hated to cause her even a second of undue stress. And that was partially why it was so important to get her point of view across. If Lola understood, she wouldn’t worry so much.

For now, though, it might be smarter to wait for Lola to bring up the topic.

So, while she waited, she’d drink her chamomile tea, unwind and watch some cotton-candy television. And do her best not to think about the fact that in twenty-four hours, she’d be in Logan’s house, in the bedroom he’d set up for her there—displacing his office furniture to the already cramped living room—and... Well, she didn’t know, precisely, what she would be doing.

Sleeping, maybe.

The past few weeks had swallowed every scrap of her energy, and truly, she would have liked nothing better than a solid eight hours of deep sleep. It had been very much like a race to the finish line getting to this point, with all the conversations, the details to be worked out and finalized, setting boundaries and expectations and, of course, planning for the wedding.

Tonight, as tired as she was, she’d be lucky to sleep at all. Tomorrow, with the ceremony behind her and the move to Logan’s house complete, she should—please, God—be able to relax.

She had the odd realization that she’d miss their evening phone calls, even though they would be living together. Ever since Logan’s first spontaneous call, they’d taken to having a conversation each night, and throughout the daytime hours, she looked forward to those quiet, private moments when it was just them. No matter what she was feeling or going through, the deep, rich tone of his voice served to temporarily soothe her troubles into extinction.

One thing was for certain: she was still just as attracted to Logan as she’d been that night at Mick’s Place, without the help of even a drop of alcohol. She liked his eyes, his smile, those long, firm legs of his, and every time she saw him, she was reminded of how well he wore a pair of jeans. On Logan, plain old denim was anything but boring.

Anna gnawed on her lip, remembering the flat, muscular tightness of his stomach and the sensation of being encircled in Logan’s arms. He was, without doubt, the epitome of male strength, yet nothing about his physical presence threatened her. Not even the day she’d finally forced herself to pull into his driveway to deliver the news of her pregnancy.

The culprit of that withering mass of anxiety was simple: undiluted fear of what he would say, of what would come next, if he’d prove he was a stand-up guy or run for the hills.

And Lord, had he proved the former.

Tightening her hold on her tea, Anna let the comforting warmth sink deep into her skin. She understood her aunt’s concerns...of course she did, but why couldn’t Lola see all the amazing qualities in Logan that she herself saw?

When she’d first told Lola the news, her aunt had said, “Sweetie, all those pregnancy hormones are frying your brain cells, making you believe that marrying this man is a good idea. But it flat-out isn’t. Neither of you has any shred of a clue as to what you’re really getting yourselves into. Stop and think before charging ahead.”

Well, she’d stopped, and yeah, she’d thought long and hard, but Anna hadn’t changed her mind. True enough, she was a good deal more emotional as of late. Commercials could make her cry at the drop of a hat, and the other morning, she’d broken down into semihysterical sobs when she realized she could no longer zip her favorite jeans. In cases such as those, yes, she blamed her out-of-whack hormones. But marrying Logan was an entirely different matter.

Whether it was instinct or women’s intuition or the voice of fate or all three, Anna didn’t know, but she was supposed to become his wife. And no, she wasn’t envisioning that they’d somehow beat the odds, fall in love and stay married. What she did believe, however, was that their marriage would create a lasting bond between them, so that as their child grew, they’d become better parents than they would’ve been otherwise.

It was intrinsic, this knowledge, as real to her as anything else she’d ever known.

Tomorrow, unless an act of God stopped her, she would become Logan’s wife. His partner and he, hers. Not forever, but for long enough.

How to explain this sensation of rightness properly to her aunt had thus far escaped Anna. Tired of the wait, of Lola’s seemingly endless stubbornness, she let out a long, vocal sigh and cleared her throat. Twice. In the hopes of grabbing her aunt’s attention.

“I can hear you just fine,” Lola said. “And I know what you want to talk about, but honey, we stand on opposite sides of this dilemma, and I finally understand that I’m not about to change your mind, and you’re not about to change mine. I’d rather not quarrel with you.”

“This isn’t a forever marriage, auntie,” Anna said, purposely using the term of endearment to remind Lola of their bond. “And I don’t want to fight, either, but can you please try to trust in me? It hurts that you’re not in my corner for something so important.”

“I am in your corner.” Lola looked up from her book, her bright red hair—courtesy of a bottle of hair dye—appearing almost cartoonish due to the glow of the lamp. “Always have been, always will be. But I’m allowed to have an opinion that differs from yours, and I think this is a mistake. I think you’re so wrapped up in the details, you can’t see the full picture.”

“We have spent a lot of time on the details,” Anna agreed, “but that’s because we do see the full picture and we don’t want anything to compromise the end goal. All of this is rather cut-and-dried. Most of our conversations could have taken place in a boardroom.”

Lola sniffed and gave her a point-blank stare. “Even when there’s love and the plan for a lifelong commitment, marriage is a ridiculous amount of hard work. You can write up all the rules and go over all the details you want, as I’m sure doing so makes both of you feel as if this is a controllable situation, but you do not know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Maybe we don’t, exactly. I’ll give you that. But we’re not going into this blind, either.” Anna returned her aunt’s stare. “I really need you to be my ally here. Not my...my debate opponent. I need you to trust that I know what’s best.”

“I am your ally.” Lola closed her book with a smack. “And I trust that you believe you’re doing the right thing. I’m worried that at some point, you’ll start to think there’s a future for you and Logan, and unless he happens to feel the same...you’ll be crushed.”

Oh. “I don’t see myself waking up one morning and forgetting what this arrangement is or why we made it in the first place.” Anna rubbed her stomach. “I can’t forget, now can I?”

“You won’t forget. But you might start to hope, and...” Lola’s words trailed off and she closed her eyes. Sighed and shook her head. “Do me this favor, please. Accept that the possibility is there, so you can at least be on the lookout for it.”

Good advice, even if Anna didn’t believe it was warranted. Attraction was one thing. She could keep her libido at bay. Hadn’t she done exactly that for close to two full years? Love, however, was another ball of wax, and she had zero intention of falling for Logan Daugherty.

Therefore, it was easy to assure her aunt by saying, “I will keep the possibility in mind.”

“Then I suppose you have my blessing, for what that’s worth, and I’ll do whatever is needed to help you succeed. Which I would’ve anyway,” she said with a small smile.

“Thank you, auntie,” Anna said as the pressure encasing her heart evaporated. “Having your support means the world to me. This is the right decision.”

“You’re welcome, and I suppose time will tell us that, won’t it?” Lola opened her book, but before returning to her reading, she said, “Just remember that you are never alone. You are never stuck. I’m not going anywhere, and this house will always be a safe haven.”

And there went Anna’s crazy hormones, filling her eyes with a bucketful of tears. “I won’t forget,” she said. “Promise. Do you think you can stop worrying so much now?”

“Hmm. Yes. And maybe we’ll win the lottery,” Lola said with dry humor. “Fact is, I never stop worrying. It’s the way of life when your heart belongs to a child, even when that child is all grown up. I expect you’ll discover that on your own soon enough.”

“I still can’t believe I’m going to be a mother,” Anna said. “I hope...well, I hope I can be the type of mother Mom was to us girls. The type of mother you were—are—to Laurel and me.”

Anna was too far away to be 100 percent positive, but her aunt’s eyes appeared shinier than normal. Lola lifted her book to hide her face. “You’ll be a wonderful mother,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “Now, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll finish my book.”

“Okay, auntie. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

While her aunt pretended to read, Anna finished her tea. In one form or another, some of what her aunt worried about would likely come to fruition. Oh, not the bit about wanting the rules to change, but about not being wholly aware of what she was getting into.

Of course she wasn’t. But it wasn’t as if she had nothing to go on, either.

Two people, whether married or platonic roommates—and, she supposed, she and Logan would soon fall into both categories—couldn’t live together free of issue. Someone would finish off the milk without buying more, or he’d forget to take out the trash on collection day, or she’d accidentally ruin his favorite shirt in the wash, or one of them would just wake up grumpy.

The key was learning how to exist somewhat compatibly within the same walls even when a day or a week or a month went wonky. Anna had managed to live with her father, her sisters, her aunt and her ex-boyfriend, and she’d got along mostly okay.

And her ex? Jamie always drank all the milk without buying more, and he’d had a lot of grumpy mornings, and yes, she’d once ruined his favorite shirt in the laundry. But they’d figured it out, for a really long time. There wasn’t any reason to believe that she and Logan couldn’t do the same, especially with all they’d already discussed and agreed on.

With motherhood on the horizon, she had plenty to think about, worry over. Obsess about, possibly. But her relationship with Logan did not fall into any of those categories. Some leeway might be required as they adjusted to sharing a home and becoming parents, and understanding for the possible issues that might arise, on both of their parts, as they moved forward.

Overall, though, Anna was sure they’d be fine.

Chapter Three

Frustrated, Logan straightened his tie in front of the full-length mirror in an extra bedroom at Gavin and Haley’s farmhouse. After some discussion, Gavin had insisted that Logan and Anna have their wedding there. Since trying to plan a ceremony—even a small one—at the ranch had seemed impractical, Logan had agreed. It felt right, being married on land that was owned by family, even for a union that wouldn’t make it past the two-year mark.

What didn’t feel right was getting married without his mother’s presence. She’d called yesterday to cancel due to his grandfather’s so-called sudden bout of bronchitis. Wasn’t that sudden. The old man had been hacking for days, but he’d sworn up and down and sideways that what ailed him was nothing more than a head cold. Finally, a combination of extreme fatigue and chills had worn Zeke down, and he’d agreed to see the doctor.

Leaving her father in that condition, with her mother already requiring extra help, was an impossibility for Carla. And Logan got it. But not having her here resonated as a bad omen.

A ridiculous notion. If he was about to marry the woman he planned on spending the rest of his life with, that would be different. Then he’d have postponed for as long as necessary. In this situation, however, he did not want to delay so much as one additional day. Mostly because he kept waiting for Anna to back out of the entire ordeal.

Fortunately, she’d remained steadfast in her decision.

Logan glanced at his watch, and his heart nose-dived for his stomach. In less than an hour, he would have a wife. He would be a husband. And the real biggie: several months down the road, he’d have a son or a daughter. Surreal, on all accounts.

Other than his growing affection toward the prospect, the baby hadn’t yet become more than a hazy image in his mind. Try as he might, he couldn’t envision what life would become, how having a child would change him or his heart or how fatherhood would affect the day-to-day way of things. Oh, he had no question that he’d never be the same.

It was the specific details of those changes that escaped him.

“Looking good,” Gavin said, entering the room. He lightly punched Logan on the shoulder, his affable nature not quite enough to hide the worry lines around his eyes. “Now, I know I have little right to offer advice, seeing how we’re still relative newcomers to each other’s lives, but I feel compelled to ask one last time. You’re solid in this decision to marry Anna, correct? Because you can do right by your kid without a wedding.”

“Yup, I’m aware. Doesn’t hold any water in my book, but I’m aware,” Logan said, taken aback as he was every time he laid eyes on his half brother. The resemblance between Gavin and the Denny whom Logan had seen in those photographs was strong. Eerily so.

Whereas Logan and Gavin shared only one like feature: their eyes. The shade and the shape of his were identical to his half brother’s. In every other way, the two men looked nothing alike. Gavin was several inches taller than Logan’s height of six foot two and had lighter hair and the build of a quarterback. Or a lumberjack.

Logan’s skin was slightly darker from the Cordero side of his heritage, and while fit—you couldn’t work a ranch for most of your life and be anything but—no one on God’s green earth would compare him to a quarterback. Or, for that matter, a lumberjack.

That being said, they shared other similarities. They analyzed problems in the same manner, and their belief systems were almost identical. Hell, when Logan had told Gavin the truth behind this wedding, his half brother had admitted he would’ve done exactly the same.

“Alrighty then,” Gavin said. “I just wanted to be sure.”

“Thank you. If we were standing in each other’s shoes, I’d want to know, too.”

“And my answer would match yours.”

Gavin moved forward as if going in for a hug, had second thoughts and nodded. He ran his hand over his trimmed beard. “We’re getting there, aren’t we? Becoming family?”

“I am.” Logan shrugged. “Can’t speak for you.”

“Think I just spoke for myself.” Without hesitating a second time, Gavin gave him a fast hug, which he followed up with another punch to the shoulder. Stepping backward, he said, “I’ve never had a brother before. Takes some getting used to, but Logan, I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad to know you, and I’m honored to stand for you today.”

And Logan no longer worried that his mother’s absence was a bad omen. He had family here. In his head and in his heart, the “half” distinction disappeared. He had his brother.

“I’m glad, too,” he said, wishing he had other words, better words to express how much this moment meant. “It’s...ah...been good, getting to know you. And thank you for hosting the ceremony and agreeing to be my best man. Makes all of this easier.”

“Welcome.” Turning toward the door, Gavin said, “We’re about ready downstairs, and from what Lola says, Anna is, too. Might want to come down soon.”

“Got it.” Alone again, Logan inhaled a deep, fortifying breath, took one final look at himself in the mirror and followed Gavin’s footsteps. Husband and father. Two titles he’d never really believed would be his. He’d carry one forever, and for a time, he’d carry both.

Yup. Surreal was the word, all right.

* * *

Mrs. Logan Daugherty. Anna Daugherty. Anna Rockwood-Daugherty. Any way she sliced it, she was now Logan’s wife, and the reality of that, along with the current state of her overactive hormones, had whipped her emotions to a crescendo.

Delusional, to believe that she’d find peace tonight, with the wedding behind her and the rest of what was to come looming uncertainly in the future.

Oh, she woke this morning with the same surety she’d carried since accepting Logan’s proposal. Everything about the wedding itself had fallen into perfect order, and since her stomach was barely rounded at the four-and-a-half-month mark, she’d made a presentable enough bride in the simple Empire-style, knee-length dress she’d worn.

But then, out of nowhere, a flurry of doubts had flown into being. She’d left the bedroom that Gavin and Haley had settled her and her aunt in to dress and prepare for the ceremony. She’d gone downstairs, still feeling secure in her decision. It wasn’t until she’d stepped onto the house’s enclosed back porch—the rainy weather had derailed their plan of being wed in the tree-filled backyard—and she’d seen Logan standing there, austere and handsome and sexy in his dark suit and tie, that something deep inside had started to crumble.

Her aunt’s words had sounded off in her head. This was a mistake.

She had come so close—this close—to running away, then and there. How had she believed, even for a moment, that this was a good, smart idea? How had that even happened?

As if sensing her distress, her near bolt for the exit, Logan’s eyes found hers, and he smiled. He held his hands out toward her, and that simply, she regained her balance and her surety. Confidence returned, she walked the few remaining feet toward him and put her hands into his, and with very little fanfare, they exchanged their vows.

Celebration and food followed, and through the festivities, she held on to her belief that marrying this man, the father of her unborn child, was a sound decision.

Her confidence might have continued to hold steady if not for the posing of the photographs. Logan’s wish for their child to believe they were once in love had led them to the decision that there should be a wedding album, with as many of the traditional shots as possible.

So, Logan had wrapped his arms around her. He’d whispered nonsense into her ear to make her smile and laugh. He’d ruffled her hair and kissed her cheek. And in these staged moments, she somehow bought into the charade. Darn if she hadn’t felt loved by him. Cherished and protected and a part of something grander than she’d ever known.

She’d enjoyed those feelings. More so than she would’ve believed. Unfortunately, every one of them vanished the instant they finished with the photographs. Logan reverted to his normal self. He was as kind as ever. Considerate and accommodating and...sweet.

But now that Anna had a flicker of an idea of what being loved by Logan might feel like, she recognized a distance existed, as well. Between them, in every word spoken, every look and, yes, every action. And she hated it. The distance felt...awful. Strategic, in a way. As if he had to force himself to be kind and considerate and accommodating and sweet.

Because she was his responsibility. A burden he had to deal with, so he would.

Unfair, she knew, to draw these conclusions without even broaching her thoughts to Logan. Unfair, as well, because even if she was right, her emotional reaction was not Logan’s fault. He was only following the terms of their agreement. Platonic. Friendly. Partners.

Which was precisely what she wanted from him.

Yet, hours later, she still hadn’t bounced back. The second they’d arrived at Logan’s—no, their—house, she’d done what any crazy and hormonal and hurt-when-she-had-zero-right-to-be-hurt shotgun bride would have: she’d told him she wanted to change clothes, escaped to her bedroom and locked the door. And, pitifully enough, had spent thirty minutes crying her eyes out in as silent a fashion as possible, all the while trying to pull herself out of the muck.

Sitting up on her bed, Anna wiped her eyes and took in a breath. Yes. She was behaving unreasonably. It was time to stop. She had to believe that her hormones were the cause of this ridiculous show of emotion. Of the deep, almost desperate yearning that now ached in her heart.

Well, maybe she couldn’t put the entire blame on her hormones. There was a loss here, as well. A final goodbye, she supposed, to her girlhood dreams of growing up and finding the right man and having a fairy-tale wedding and... Oh. Suddenly, she got it.

She wasn’t wishing for more from Logan or their relationship. She wasn’t going crazy, either. She was simply reacting to the realization, the remembrance, of what she’d once wanted on the day she became someone’s wife, and coming to terms with the true reality of today.

When she added in the hormone-induced warfare raging in her body, her strong emotional response to the photo session made perfect sense. As did the yearning to be loved and cherished by her someday husband. Not by her husband in name only.

The oh-so-logical explanation sifted in and found stability, and relief quickly followed. Good. Now that she understood why she was so upset, she should be able to pull herself together. Her mother used to say that a good cry solved more than it hurt, and Anna had cried long and hard, so really, she should be good to go. She should be ready to face Logan.

Why, she’d just open the bedroom door, walk into the living room, and—

Damn it! Another full-body blast of emotion hit her head-on—likely caused by the bittersweet recollection of her mother—and her tears, which had finally tapered down to mere watery eyes, started anew. They drenched her cheeks and dripped into her mouth. Her throat tightened and her chest heaved. Lovely. Just freaking lovely.

At this rate, she’d be lucky to have herself under control by her due date.

* * *

Logan paced the living room, every now and then glancing toward Anna’s closed door, his gut telling him that something was wrong. She’d been in there for too long, and he didn’t believe she was tired enough to turn in for the night when it was barely seven thirty.

She could be ill. Or upset, in some form or another.

He stopped pacing and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to think. She hadn’t mentioned feeling sick, and their agreement was that she’d keep him informed of her physical well-being. Upset seemed the likeliest possibility, but for the life of him, he couldn’t think of anything that might have caused her distress. The day had gone beautifully, precisely as planned, down to the last detail. Well, except for his mother not being there.

Anna couldn’t be upset by that, could she? No. Made absolutely zero sense, as he’d told her about his grandfather’s illness and she’d reacted with sympathy.

What should he do? Leave her to her own devices or knock on her door and...what? He seriously did not have a clue, but leaving her alone, potentially upset, was not a proactive solution. If they were to make this work—and he had every intention of doing just that—then they had to start off in the proper manner, right from the beginning.

But he couldn’t exactly order her to come out here, now could he? Well, no. Doing so wouldn’t instill trust in him or their partnership. He had to try something, though.

Without having any sort of a feasible plan in mind, Logan went to Anna’s door and raised his fist to knock when he heard... Dear God, was she crying? He pressed his ear against the door to confirm that the sounds emanating from the room were those of a woman sobbing.

And yes, damn it, yes, they were. Logan backed away, fast, and considered his next move. Crying was not a positive sign. Hiding from him while she cried seemed even worse. They were supposed to be in this together. She was supposed to feel safe leaning on him.

Yet she hadn’t uttered a solitary syllable to let him in on her distress.

Raking his fingers through his hair again, he stared at the door as if he could see clean through the wood. Other than the stray emotional moment with his female relatives over the years, Logan did not have that much experience with crying women. He had a sum total of zero experience with crying women who were also pregnant.

And this woman was his wife.

Inhaling a breath, Logan pushed himself forward and rapped on her door. A startled sob-yelp hit his ears, and he cringed. “Anna? Can I come in for a few minutes?”

Silence. The deafening type, and it lasted for close to thirty seconds. When she finally spoke, it was in a louder, higher-pitched voice than typical. “Now r-really isn’t the best time, Logan. Sorry. But, see, I’m—I’m in the m-middle of something.”

Hmm. “Oh, yeah? What’s that? I’m rather handy, you know, so maybe I can help.”

“No! I... That is, you can’t h-help with this,” she said, her tone wobbly and strained. “I—I’ll come out soon and we—we can talk then. Or—or maybe in the morning. Because I seem to be having a br-breakdown of sorts, and I’m not sure how l-long it will last.”

“Anna, please let me in.”

“I’m fine! I—I just need to settle down.”

Logan rested his forehead against her door, grabbed the knob and twisted. Nope. Locked tight. “Now see, this isn’t going to work for me,” he said, keeping his voice relaxed and, hopefully, calming. “Being stuck out here, as I am, while you’re in there, having some type of a breakdown that involves crying. I need you to talk to me, tell me what has you so upset.”

“No, thank you,” she said. “Go away, p-please.”

She was still crying—he could tell that much—but her voice sounded steadier. Good. A step in the right direction. “Not happening, so you may as well let me in.”

“That’s also not h-happening!”

“Guess we’re at an impasse.” Logan sat down in the hallway, right next to Anna’s door. “So what I think I’m going to do is just sit here for a while, until you’re past this little breakdown of yours, and I can see that you’re okay. How’s that sound?”

Again, she didn’t answer right off, but he heard her moving around, and he could almost feel her staring at the door. “You’re just going to sit there and do n-nothing?” she asked, her voice closer than before. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I’m worried about you. Because we’re in this together. Because if you’re upset, that just doesn’t sit well with me. And,” Logan said, speaking the words as they came to him, “how you are and what happens to you matters, Anna. It matters a great deal.”

“Geez, you’re good,” she said after a moment’s pause. “And I kn-know you mean what you just said, but you can stop worrying. This has nothing to do with the baby.”

“Nothing at all?”

“Being p-pregnant supercharges my emotions, but I’m not upset about the baby.” She unlocked and opened the door, looked at him sitting on the floor and shook her head. “You’re a little crazy, too, you know. Sitting out here like—like a sentry or something, over a few t-tears.”

Rising to a stand, he took in her swollen, damp eyes and splotchy pink cheeks, her mussed hair and the way her arms trembled, just a little, as she crossed them over her chest. More than a few tears, he wagered, and he felt horrible for whatever she’d gone through, for whatever had put her in such a state. “Hey there,” he said. “It’s good to see you.”

She blinked once, twice. Breathed in a large gulp of air and blinked again. Those beautiful brown eyes of hers filled with a fresh onslaught of emotion, and she cursed, loudly and eloquently, and started to slam the door shut. Ah. Nope. Not happening.

Acting on impulse, he stuck his foot into the opening—because no way was he going to let her suffer on her own, not when he was there to provide some company—and said, “You don’t have to hide. We’re partners, remember? Lean on me, why don’t you?”

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” she whispered. “I’ll be better tomorrow.”

“I already see you, and why don’t we try to reach that goal tonight?” He had to fight, hard, the sudden need to pull her into his arms. To hold her for however long it took for her body to stop trembling, her tears to stop coming. “You don’t even have to tell me what’s wrong. Let’s just be a boring old married couple and watch TV. Or go for a walk. Or—”

“Or?” she asked.

A mistake, probably, but...to hell with it. “Let me hold you while you cry.”

Indecision darted over her features, but she didn’t say no and she didn’t voice any objections. Logan simply opened his arms and waited. She hesitated, briefly, before stepping into his embrace, and with her cheek pressed against his chest and her arms wrapped around his waist, her tears started coming faster and harder.

And Logan didn’t know if this was the right or wrong decision, holding Anna in such an intimate way, but he didn’t much care, either. She needed him, he was her husband and it was his job—at least for the next seventeen or so months—to take care of her.

After a while, he moved them to the living room, to the sofa, and covered them both with a blanket. Slowly her crying subsided and she stopped shivering, but they stayed as they were. It seemed their bodies had melded into one, they were so entwined with each other, and between that and Anna’s scent—a little spicy, a little sweet—and the soft brush of her hair against his jaw, Logan started questioning every last one of his self-made promises.

Because holding Anna, being surrounded by Anna, being there for Anna, felt more real, more right, more true than any other experience in Logan’s life thus far. All of this could be due to what he’d already considered, that Anna was the mother of his unborn baby and therefore was able to elicit from Logan a mass of unprecedented emotions.

Could be that, and he wasn’t anywhere close to ruling out that possibility.

But maybe he should widen his scope some. Consider if this rightness he felt might mean something a lot more lasting than a temporary, in-name-only marriage. Without, of course, doing anything that could jeopardize what he and Anna had already agreed upon.

Yeah, that could work. He’d just keep his hands on the steering wheel and take it nice and slow, see what his heart told him one day at a time, where it led him once their baby was born, and go from there. There was no cause to rush into a damn thing.

Hell, truth was, he had well over a year to figure this out.

Chapter Four

Early the next morning, Anna woke alone on the sofa. It took a minute to orient herself, to remember where she was and why. Had she really sobbed in Logan’s arms and somehow managed to fall asleep while he held her? She closed her eyes and let out a small breath.

Yes. On both accounts.

The memory flooded her cheeks with prickly warmth—what must he think of her?—but strangely, living alongside her embarrassment was a slight sense of comfort. He’d sat in the muck with her, which couldn’t have been easy, and by doing so, proved that they truly were in this together. That he intended to live up to his word and be her partner.

Which meant that despite their unorthodox relationship and wedding night, despite yesterday’s overwhelming doubt and sudden yearning for more, she had made the right decision. It felt good to have that realization, seeing how she couldn’t turn back the clock and change anything that had already occurred. But an explanation of sorts should probably be made.

A glance around the living room showed she was alone. She listened to the sounds of the house and heard nothing. Likely, Logan had separated his body from hers at some point during the night to go to his bedroom to sleep in peace. The assumption gave her another ounce of comfort, because it meant she’d have a bit more time to find the rest of her bearings before facing him again. Maybe he wouldn’t even ask about last night.

Anna sat up slowly, paying close attention to her stomach and waiting for the odd mix of hunger and nausea to hit. In the first few months of her pregnancy, the nausea had won out morning after morning. She’d taken to leaving a few saltine crackers and a bottle of water on her nightstand to subdue both conditions the moment she woke.

For obvious reasons, she hadn’t made those preparations last night, but today, the only grumbling in her stomach seemed due to hunger. She stood carefully in case the motion would signal the return of her usual bout of morning sickness and, when it didn’t, went to the kitchen. She’d find something for breakfast, take a long, rejuvenating shower and fix her hair, her makeup. Certainly by then, she’d feel much more herself and be back on track.

Except when she searched the refrigerator and the cupboards, she found a bag of coffee beans, a box of tea, a few frozen pizzas, various condiments and little else. No bread. No cereal. No milk, even if there had been a box of cereal. What in heaven’s name did this man eat, and why hadn’t she thought to go grocery shopping before moving in?

She wasn’t sure if her frail stomach could handle pizza first thing in the morning but, with little other choice, grabbed one of the boxes and set the oven to preheat. Out of nowhere, a grain of self-confidence emerged and she grinned. It seemed the man who had almost everything under control, and a plan for everything else, hadn’t yet learned how to feed himself properly.

That, at least, fell into her wheelhouse. Her specialty might be desserts, but Anna enjoyed all aspects of cooking, from planning to preparation. Another plus, since she didn’t work again until Monday, she now knew how to occupy a good portion of her first day as a married woman.

A shopping trip was definitely in order, followed by a deep cleaning of the house that was now her home. It wasn’t disgusting, by any means, as there was no clutter to speak of. No dirty dishes in the sink—though, really, how could Logan dirty a dish when he had no food?—and there weren’t socks or underwear or the stray shirt lying around.

But the place was dusty, the kitchen floor needed to be mopped, the windows were...well, spotty was a good word, and she doubted anyone had scrubbed the oven in years.

Walking into the living room, she mentally reorganized the space. It was crowded with the chair and sofa, the television and Logan’s desk, desk chair, file cabinet and printer, but by swapping a few things around, they might be able to make better use of the room.

Logan would have to help her move the furniture, but she figured he wouldn’t object. She’d buy some flowers, maybe, and a few decorative accents, to bring warmth into the house. Some big, fat, colorful pillows for the sofa and perhaps a picture or two to hang on the walls. Yes, with very little work, she could make this house feel more like a home.

There wasn’t any reason not to, and again, she doubted that Logan would object. After all, she’d have to live here for quite a while, and she believed that Logan would want her to feel comfortable, so she might as well do what she could to brighten her surroundings.

The house was small, with only two bedrooms—fortunately, both were decent in size—one bathroom, a cramped living room and the modest kitchen, barely big enough for the appliances and the table. She and Logan would constantly be under each other’s noses. She wondered how long it would take to become accustomed to each other. Hopefully, not too long.

Surely before they brought a baby into the mix. Living in such a tight space would prove tough enough for two people, but Anna wasn’t quite sure how they would manage with a newborn. Babies, as little as they were, required a lot of accessories. And while a bassinet would work fine to start, they’d eventually need to buy a crib. She’d like a rocking chair, and...

With forced effort, she tucked away her worries. The baby wasn’t going to be born tomorrow. They had plenty of time to consider the logistics.

Pleased to have a plan in place, and to feel more in control of her new life, Anna started to return to the kitchen. The front door opened, stopping her forward motion. She turned, and there was Logan, carrying two large carryout bags. And oh Lord, did the sight of him cause a curl of longing in her belly. Hot and sharp and fast.

No, no, no. Couldn’t be longing. Just...surprise.

“Oh!” she said, trying to hide her reaction and probably failing. “I—I assumed you were sleeping. In your bedroom. And, um, well...hi!”

“Hi,” he said easily, with a smile that lit up the room, adding far more warmth than a bunch of throw pillows and knickknacks ever could. “I realized my cupboards are fairly empty, so I grabbed us some breakfast.” He held up the bulging bags and his smile became sheepish. “I may have gone overboard in ascertaining I brought something back you’d want.”

“Looks like you have enough to feed six people,” she said with a nervous laugh. “Trust me, I’m not that picky when it comes to food. I was about to cook one of those pizzas you have in the freezer. But...thank you for being so considerate and generous.”

She wasn’t speaking only of the ginormous amount of food he’d purchased, but also of how he’d treated her last night. How he’d been there for her without any sign of hesitation or condemnation. How he’d held her until she fell asleep.

His steady blue-gray eyes met hers with a mix of genuine compassion and understanding. “You’re welcome, Anna. Whatever I can do, I’ll do.” He shrugged and the moment disappeared into the ether. “Now,” he said, heading toward the kitchen, “let’s put yesterday behind us and enjoy breakfast. I’m curious if you’re an eggs-and-bacon girl, or if you’ll go for the banana pancakes and whipped cream.”

“I’m an appreciative fan of both,” she said as her now-not-frail-at-all stomach growled. Loudly. “I’m suddenly starving, so I hope you also have hash browns, preferably with onions and topped with cheddar cheese. Oh! And sour cream.”

“I have that and more.” He started unpacking the various containers from the bags onto the chipped Formica counter. “After we eat, if you’re up for it, we should probably hit the grocery store and...well, I wouldn’t mind making another stop. Somewhere we can look at baby stuff together. Maybe buy something for him or her. What do you think?”

Oh. As of yet, Anna hadn’t purchased so much as a pair of bootees for the baby. She hadn’t allowed herself to celebrate her pregnancy in any way at all. Between the shock of seeing a positive pink line, the realization of her changed future, her anxiety over telling Logan, his unexpected proposal and her acceptance, and then the wedding itself...she hadn’t thought about celebration. She just hadn’t got that far, she guessed.

But now, with these few words from Logan, her heart opened and the full realization that she was going to be a mother...a mother!...swept in with unadulterated joy. She was ready, finally, to prepare for and celebrate this new life growing inside her, and she couldn’t think of a sweeter, simpler, lovelier way to do so than what Logan had suggested.

“Yes,” she said, excited and warmed by the prospect. Decorating the living room could wait a day or two or three. “Let’s buy our first something for this baby. Maybe a little outfit, or a toy, or a soft blanket, or—I know! Maybe a teddy bear.” She stopped and inhaled a breath. “I love this idea, Logan. I...didn’t realize how much I needed to celebrate this baby’s existence.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Logan said. “I think it will be good for both of us.”

He was right, on so many levels. Focusing on the baby today, the day after their wedding, was the perfect way to start this in-name-only, temporary marriage. And shopping for the baby would entail the first decision of many they would make as lifelong, platonic partners.

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