Special Delivery. Laura Browning

She was just as thorny as her namesake. She was an attractive woman, even if it did look like pregnancy was draining her. What was she doing on her own? Where was the baby’s father? He’d like to ask her, but how the hell did you do that? Hey, Holly, I don’t see a ring on your finger. Are you divorced, or did you just walk out on the father-to-be? Worse still. What if she was a widow? Jake shuddered. Way too awkward. Besides, a ready-made family was hardly what he’d had in mind when he pictured kids running around his house, filling the bedrooms on the second and third floors.

      No use even going there. She’d made it plain she wanted nothing to do with him. Even as polite as she’d forced herself to be, he knew when he was being hustled out a door. It might be the uniform, but he doubted her wariness was all due to it. A world of hurt had lurked in those eyes.

      * * * *

      How could you end up on hold just trying to check your bank balance? Holly sighed as she switched the phone receiver to her other ear. She hadn’t even talked to a real person yet. Was the computer that busy? When the automated voice spit out her balance, she saw it matched the pittance recorded in her checkbook and disconnected.

      Where was the Holly who normally cheered people? She blamed it on the pregnancy hormones, but more factored into it. The insurance money her parents left behind was never intended to cover the costs of her pregnancy. After she’d paid funeral expenses, Tyler’s medical bills, and settled her parents’ debts, there wasn’t much left anyway. What remained disappeared between leaving Lynchburg and getting set in Mountain Meadow. Without selling the house or finding a renter, she was in a bind.

      Renting this place had drained her money even more. She had always lived at home until she and Tyler left Lynchburg, so she never had to deal with deposits for utilities and a house. All of those extras had eaten into her meager reserves.

      She stared out the window next to the kitchen table. Damn you, Spence. He had burst her fairy-tale bubble of what a romance should be. Then his drinking and rambling threats had forced her to pick up and run. Nothing was more important than making sure Tyler and her baby were safe.

      Could Spence have done anything? Probably not. But she couldn’t take the chance with her baby or her brother. She’d already proven her judgment was way off base when it came to men. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

      Now she was confined to the house, working part-time—thanks only to Mr. Crawford’s generosity. He’d set her up with a satellite Internet link and a laptop so she could keep doing his books and get paid. But with so little left, remaining upbeat was harder and harder.

      A disconnection notice from the power company stared her in the face. If she paid their minimum, she wasn’t sure they would have enough for food, but if she didn’t pay, the power would be cut off and then not only could she not afford to reconnect it, she would also not be able to get her bookkeeping done. She could ask Mr. Crawford, but she hated to do so if there was some other way to work it. He was already being kind enough. If a solution was out there, she sure would like to know. She glanced up, hoping for a little divine intervention, or at the very least inspiration, but of late even faith—in God or man—was in short supply.

      Holly pressed a hand to her back and stood, hoping it would relieve the ache. She just couldn’t seem to find any comfortable position. And the bed-rest part? Forget it. Every time she lay down she felt like she couldn’t breathe. Between working on the computer and a lack of sleep, Holly’s eyes were gritty. She was sure they must be bloodshot. Doc Owens had warned her the last month would be uncomfortable, but it seemed to her the bed rest made it worse, not better. She was so inactive, the last thing her body wanted to do at night was sleep.

      The baby rolled and shifted. Holly rubbed her belly. The muscles across the top of her stomach tightened, then relaxed. Doc told her these practice contractions weren’t anything to worry about, but they happened more and more often. She smiled as she stroked her abdomen again. Wish me luck, baby, because Ty and I are going to need it.

      She called the power company. She tried to time her bill-negotiating calls for when Tyler was out of the house. He didn’t need to hear her working deals for partial payments on their phone and electricity. She would pay the minimum and just hope the money she had left combined with what she could still earn would get them through. At least if Ty brought groceries one worry was off her mind.

      * * * *

      Jake locked his office and grabbed his cap and coat from the peg next to the door, realizing he didn’t have time to run home before he was supposed to be at Jenny’s house. He grimaced at the idea of going to her party in his uniform, but hell they all knew who and what he was anyway. Wasn’t like jeans and a shirt would make them any more comfortable.

      “Get in the car, Jake.”

      “Evan?” Jake started. “What are you doing here?”

      Evan straightened from where he’d been leaning against the side of his car and grabbed Jake’s elbow. “You forget. I know you too well. You were getting ready to go to Jenny’s in your uniform, weren’t you?”

      “Well…” Jake slid in the passenger side.

      “Fuck well,” Evan said as he buckled his seat belt. “I’m running you back to your house so you can change. Then we’ll go.”

      Jake glanced at Evan’s profile as his friend drove the few short blocks to where their homes stood side by side. “I still don’t get why you want to go.”

      “I’m a masochist.” Evan pulled into the drive. “Hurry up. I can’t wait for Dr. Owens to give me an eat-my-assectomy.”

      Jake sighed. Evan was right. They did know each other too well, and he knew Evan was up to something. He’d dropped hints all week until Jake invited him along. Jenny had said he could bring a friend, but Jake knew Evan was not who she’d had in mind. So why was he going along with it? Because he was a sucker. That was why. They might not remember, but Jake did. Evan and Jenny were supposed to be together.

      In just minutes, Jake climbed back into Evan’s car, uniform gone and jeans and a sweater in their place. Christmas music blared from the radio as Evan flicked his wrist to turn on the ignition.

      “I figure we can both use a little mood music.”

      Jake laughed. “Doesn’t feel like the holiday spirit’s infected anybody this year.”

      As they passed the road leading to the old Crawley place where he’d dropped off Tyler and met Holly, he frowned. He’d given Sam a heads-up about the Morgans so maybe he and his deputies could keep an eye on her. What would she do if she went into labor and couldn’t drive? Mistletoe Lane was little more than interconnected potholes. He doubted either of the county’s two ambulances could even negotiate the road.

      One thing was for sure, Mountain Meadow was small enough chances were good he’d see Holly and Tyler again. He grinned as he realized he wouldn’t mind at all. He’d liked the kid a lot, and if he could get past some of Holly’s wariness… Jake wasn’t quite sure how to finish that thought. Anyone could see she loved her brother and the baby she carried. He had to respect that kind of commitment.

      “What are you grinning about Allred? My imminent demise?”

      Jake snorted. “You were the one who invited yourself along. Don’t whine if you’re welcome’s less than you expect.”

      “So why the grin?”

      “Thinking of the woman and her brother who’ve rented the Crawley place.”

      Evan laughed. “You’re thinking about a woman? Careful, next thing you know, Sam’s prediction will come true…hooked and landed before the new year.”

      “Asshole.”

      Evan turned into Jenny’s drive. Her home, tucked into the trees on the side of one of the mountains, was ablaze with light when they arrived. Some of the doctors and nurses from the hospital as well as friends they’d gone to school with were already milling about. When