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  After everything he’d been through for her and Ginny’s sake, she shouldn’t have sent him off like that in the end, so abruptly. Just because he’d let slip that he knew more about her than he should—in fact, now she thought it over some, she couldn’t see him messing up like that. Uh-uh. He was too good at what he did. Which meant he’d done it on purpose.

  Why?

  Mary smiled into the darkness. To get straight with her. Because a man needed to be straight with his friends.

  Her smile faded and her brows drew together. She had a self-righteous streak, and she knew it. She shouldn’t have jumped right into blaming him that way.

  Mary reached for her cell on the table by the bed. She would call him, right now, and tell him she was sorry, tell him….

  Too bad she didn’t have his number. He’d given her that card when she answered the door, and she’d stuck it in the back pocket of her jeans—which she’d left on the floor of her bathroom after her water broke.

  Feeling strangely bereft, she set the phone down and leaned back on the pillows and told herself it was no big deal. She would be home by tomorrow afternoon. She’d call him then.

  Which was another problem. She still needed to get someone to collect Ginny’s car seat from the house and come get her tomorrow.

  Tomorrow, she thought as she closed her eyes. She’d arrange for Donna Lynn or Garland to take her home. And when she got there, the first thing she would do—even before she called the editor of Ranch Life to explain why she’d missed her deadline—was to call Gabe and thank him again for being the best unexpected friend any girl ever had.

  Ginny started fussing. Mary took her from the bassinet and put her to the breast, laughing a little at the way she latched right on and sucked for all she was worth. Mary knew from all the reading she’d done that her nipples would be seriously sore in the next day or two. Right then, though, all she could think about was the darling child in her arms. She might have been born a few weeks early, but she was none the weaker for it. Virginia Mae Hofstetter was going to thrive and grow.

  Oh, if only Rowdy could see her…

  Mary felt the hot tears scald her cheeks where she’d been laughing just a moment earlier. Oh, she was just a tangled mess of emotion, all right. But that was to be expected, too. When you had a baby, hormones had a field day with your heart.

  Mary smiled through her tears and whispered, “Rowdy, we made it through.” She stroked the feathery wisps of hair on Ginny’s little head. “She will know you, I swear it to you. She will know that you loved her without ever knowing her. That you wanted her so much, that you never would have left her by your own choice. This is one lucky girl, here. To be able to call a man as fine as you her daddy…”

  In a while, Mary switched her baby to the other side. She sang to Ginny, so softly, an Irish song about a fishmonger’s daughter that her mother used to sing to her. Finally, Ginny heaved a huge sigh for such a small person and let go of Mary’s nipple. She was already asleep again. Mary held her for a while, just loving the feel of her.

  And then she lifted her to her shoulder and patted her tiny back. Ginny let out a hearty-sounding burp, never even waking. Gently, so carefully, Mary laid her back in the bassinet. Then she plumped her pillow and closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep again.

  The next time she woke, it was almost 2:00 a.m. She needed to pee, so she put the bed rail down and got up, with considerable effort. They’d taken away her IV a few hours back and she kind of missed it. The pole had been good to lean on as she shuffled along. Slowly, groaning more than once at the stiffness in every single part of her body, she made it into the bathroom and did what she needed to do.

  Then she washed her hands and shuffled out into the main room again. She paused at the bedside, thinking how much it was going to hurt to lift up her leg and hoist herself onto the mattress again.

  Maybe a little stroll in the corridor outside her room first. The nurses had said she should get up and walk as soon as she felt she could handle it, that it would help to “get things moving,” meaning her bowels.

  Getting things moving aside, Mary thought, as she frowned at the bed, anything would be easier than climbing back up there. Maybe if she walked a little, her aching muscles would loosen up.

  Since the thin hospital gown wasn’t something she wanted to walk the hallways in, she took the robe she’d brought from home off the end of the bed. With slow care—her body was so sore and achy even the simplest actions seemed to take forever—she pulled on the robe and belted it.

  And then, at last, she set out. Such a big adventure—a walk down the hospital hallway. She shuffled over to the door, pulled it open and blinked against the bright glare of the lights out there.

  A passing orderly paused to grant her a big smile, his teeth so white and straight in his dark face. “Way to go, Mary. The more you walk, the faster you’re out of here.”

  She gave him a game thumbs-up.

  He nodded his approval. “And if you’re looking for your husband, he’s right over there.”

  “My…?”

  “Right there.”

  Her gaze followed where he pointed. Gabe was conked out in a chair against the wall several yards down the hallway.

  Tenderness flooded through her at the sight of him. She felt the soft smile as it curved her lips. He had his head braced on his hand, his neck bent at a really painful-looking angle. He’d need a chiropractor when he woke up, the poor man.

  The orderly stepped closer. “Between you and me, Mary?”

  “Hmm?”

  “He looks pretty uncomfortable.”

  “He sure does.”

  “He said he didn’t want to wake you.”

  “He’s, um, thoughtful that way.”

  “You should take him in your room with you. No one’s going to care if he stretches out on that empty bed in there.”

  “You think?”

  “Go on. Give the poor man a bed to sleep in.” The orderly strolled off down the hall.

  Mary hovered there, at the door to her room, staring at Gabe as he slept. How could it be she’d met him just yesterday? When she looked at him now, she felt the same deep, abiding fondness a person feels for someone she’s known since grade school.

  Her mom used to say that a faithful friend was a gift to treasure. Gabe didn’t seem the faithful type, or he hadn’t at first. But already, in the space of mere hours, he’d proved himself one of the best friends she’d ever known.

  A gift to treasure, yes he was.

  Mary started toward him, wincing as she went, one slow step at a time.

  Chapter Six

  Gabe smelled lemons and heard Mary calling his name. He muttered, “S’okay, Mary. Li’l nap…” and tried to sink back into sleep again.

  But Mary wouldn’t shut up. “Gabe. Come on.” She was shaking his shoulder, whispering in his ear. “Wake up…”

  He opened one eye. “Ugh. What?” He rubbed the back of his neck. A hard chair in a hospital corridor wasn’t the most comfortable place to sleep.

  She was bent close, her hair brushing his cheek. As he peered at her blearily, she straightened, groaning at the effort it took, and put her fists on her hips. She stared down at him, shaking her head.

  At least she didn’t look mad. “I guess there’s no need to ask you what you’re doing here.”

  “Well, see, it’s like this.” He rubbed his neck some more. “I went by your place to check on the animals—”

  “…and ran into Garland and the two of you talked about who would bring me home tomorrow.”

  He leaned back against the wall and let his eyes droop shut again. “Mary.”

  “What?”

  “Let a man finish a damn sentence, why don’t you?”

  “Sorry.”

  “S’okay. Got your car seat in the Escalade…” He drifted back toward the comfort of sleep.

  But she only shook his shoulder some more. “Gabe. Come on.”

  “C’mon, where?�
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  “The other bed. In my room. You can stretch out there, at least.”

  “S’all right. Really. I’m fine here.”

  “Gabe.”

  He felt her body’s warmth and smelled her tart scent again. “Huh?” He gave in and opened his eyes.

  Her face was maybe two inches from his. “Come on.”

  So he dragged himself upright and started for her room. A few steps along, he realized she wasn’t following.

  He glanced back. “Well. What’s the holdup?” She blew out a put-upon breath and stiffly started shuffling toward him. He let her go on past, wanting to catch her arm as she went by and scoop her up into his arms, to carry her wherever she needed to go. “Hey, Mary.”

  She stopped to scowl over her shoulder. “What?”

  “Need some help?”

  “No, thank you,” she said in that voice that brought to mind some old lady schoolteacher. “I’m managing just fine.”

  He grinned to himself and followed at her pace. She was something. She didn’t let anything get her down.

  In her darkened room, they were quiet in order not to wake Ginny. He tried to help her up into her bed.

  “I said I would manage,” she said in a crabby whisper.

  He moved back. “Go for it.”

  So she did, with great effort. Once she was up there, she fussed with the pillow and wiggled around, getting out of her robe, which she tossed to the foot of the bed. Finally, with a hard sigh, she was still.

  “So,” he whispered, still standing where she’d left him when he’d tried to give her a hand up. “All settled?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Well, all right.” He tiptoed over to the other bed, eased off his boots and lay down with the rest of his clothes on, lacing his fingers behind his head. Sure beat sleeping in the hallway.

  “Gabe?” she whispered through the darkness.

  “Um?”

  “I know I said it about a hundred times already, but thank you. For everything.”

  “For you, Mary, anything.” He said it jokingly, but then he felt a sudden uncomfortable jolt deep down inside him as he realized he actually meant it.

  There was something about her. Something solid and true. She made a man want to do what he could for her—partly because she seemed so determined to take care of herself. And partly because…

  His mind veered away from the unnerving thought. He let it go.

  She asked, “When you let it slip about nosing around in my life?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You made that slip on purpose, didn’t you?”

  He grinned at the shadowed ceiling overhead. That Mary. Nothing got by her. “It’s not important.”

  “Oh, yeah. It is. You’re an honorable man. Even if you think it’s kind of corny to admit you are.”

  “Go to sleep, Mary.”

  A silence from her bed and then, “Yes, all right. Good night.”

  The baby woke at a little after four, fussing. The fussing built to a whine. And then a full-fledged wail.

  Mary stirred in the other bed.

  “What can I do?” Gabe asked.

  “Not a thing,” she said. “I’m on it.”

  He turned on his side and braced himself on an elbow and watched through the shadowed dark as she took Ginny in her arms and eased her hospital gown out of the way. The baby got right to work. And the room was quiet again, except for the sounds Ginny made as she ate.

  “She’s a hungry one,” Gabe said.

  Mary gazed down at her. Even through the shadows, he could see the faint curve of her adoring smile. “And it’s not even milk yet.”

  “Huh?”

  “It’s called colostrum, and is produced before the milk comes down. It gives the baby the special nourishment she needs right after birth.”

  “Who knew?” he said wryly, thinking it was more information than he needed, but kind of interesting nonetheless.

  After Ginny ate, Mary got up—slowly, as she’d been doing everything since the birth—and changed her and put her back in the bassinet. Gabe would have offered to help with that, but he knew she’d say no, which, really, was fine with him.

  Once Ginny was back in her bed, Mary started walking again. Slowly. With a good deal of groaning. She made her way at a snail’s pace to the bathroom. It seemed to Gabe, lying there in the dark, acutely aware of every move she made, that it took her forever to get there.

  When she came out, it took her just as long to get back to the bed and up into it. Finally, she settled under the covers with a sigh. He lay there in the quiet dark for a while, listening to the baby’s breathing, and then to Mary’s, too, as she faded off to sleep, thinking how he felt content just to be lying there with Mary and her baby conked out a few feet away.

  In the morning, the nurse came in while he was still asleep. He heard the soft sounds her crepe soles made on the linoleum floor.

  He opened his eyes and the nurse smiled at him. “Mornin’,” she said. “Going to be another sunny day.” She unhooked Mary’s chart from the foot of the bed and made a note on it.

  Then she woke Mary and asked her some questions about how she was feeling. She took Mary’s blood pressure and temperature and also checked the baby.

  “Things are looking good,” she said, and asked Mary if she had any questions.

  “Just one. I need a shower. Can I have one?”

  The nurse glanced at the chart again. “Sure. Breakfast should be here soon. How about after the meal? Will your husband help you, or do you want one of the ward clerks to come by?”

  Mary sent him a glance he couldn’t quite read. Maybe she was getting tired of them all calling him her husband. Or maybe she wanted him to know that he would not be helping her with her shower.

  Really, who knew what that look meant? He sure didn’t.

  She insisted, “I can do it myself, don’t worry. I’m feeling so much better this morning.”

  “Well, fair enough, then.” The nurse marked the chart again and left.

  A few minutes later, they brought in breakfast. Someone had thought to order a tray for Gabe, too. Mary ate in bed, using the swinging tray as a table. He sat in one of the chairs, the food tray balanced on his knees.

  Later, after she nursed the baby again, Mary wanted the shower the nurse had approved. By then it was after nine.

  He offered to keep an eye on the baby while she was in the bathroom.

  “No, it’s okay. I can just leave the door open…”

  He took the hint. “I’ve got a few calls to make anyway. Back in an hour or so?”

  She looked sweetly relieved. “That would be real good.”

  He got a large coffee from the cafeteria, went outside and stood in the parking lot under the bright morning sun and called his assistant at the office.

  He told her to clear his calendar for the rest of the day. “I won’t be in the office until tomorrow.”

  Georgia was a prize. She didn’t ask questions. “Will do, Gabe.”

  “Sorry about yesterday. Something big came up.”

  “It’s all right. I managed.” She gave him a brief rundown of the fires she’d put out in his absence.

  He told her she was the best. Then they went over his schedule for the day and agreed on a tentative rearrangement. “Tell my father I’m taking a little time off for myself.”

  “That will be fun.” She said it in a neutral tone.

  But the cool remark forced him to admit it just wasn’t fair to put a job like that on his assistant. “Never mind. I’ll handle my father. You call the rest of them for me. If they ask, say I’m helping out a friend. If there’s something you can’t work out, call me here, on my cell, and I’ll deal with it.”

  “Good enough.”

  Once he finished with Georgia, he called his dad and told him he’d be away from the office and out of contact for another day. “Georgia has it all handled,” he added.

  Davis was not reassured. “Okay, Gabe. What’s going on?
We’ve got the quarterly meeting today. And you’re supposed to be handling the new project review. And then there’s the formal update meeting of the Bravo River Group. There’s—”

  “Dad. I know my job.”

  “Something’s going on with you,” Davis growled. “I’m not happy about it.”

  Gabe almost laughed. As a rule, his father had sense enough to let his sons—and his two daughters—run their own lives. He trusted them to manage their separate responsibilities in or out of the family business without leaning over their shoulders or second-guessing their decisions.

  But Davis could get controlling. Especially when he sensed that things weren’t going the way he wanted them to go.

  Davis said, “Is this about that Hofstetter woman?”

  Gabe almost denied it, just on principle. But why? He wasn’t some misbehaving kid who had to lie to his dad. “Yeah. She’s on her own right now. She needs a helping hand.”

  There was a silence. Then his father said, “So you are still working on her. Good.”

  Gabe glanced up at the clear Texas sky and shook his head in exasperation, though there was no one to see but a few blackbirds on a telephone wire at the edge of the parking lot. “I’ll say it once more, Dad. And that had better do it. No. I’m not working on her. I’m just helping her out.”

  Davis swore. “Your time is money. Hire her a nurse.”

  It was hopeless and Gabe knew it. His father was not going to understand—truth was, Gabe hardly understood. He only knew that helping Mary and Ginny was something he had to do. “Talk to you later, Dad.” He pressed the disconnect button before Davis could bark more orders at him.

  He had several other messages, both text and voice mail, so he went through them. He texted the ones he could and called the rest back, including Carly. He got her voice mail and left a brief message saying he’d try her later.

  In the meantime, as he was dealing with yesterday’s messages, more calls were coming in. He dealt with them, too.

  Once he’d finally gotten on top of his calls, it was twenty past ten and he figured Mary was probably done with her shower. He went to the Escalade and got his overnight bag, packed the night before when he had gone back to his place after stopping at the ranch.