Remember Me, Cowboy. C.J. Carmichael

was never all that happy living on a farm.” Her relationship with her father probably played a big role in that. She and Corb had had a long conversation about this, too, but now she glossed over that part of her past. “Teachers told me I had a talent with words, so I studied English and after I graduated, I moved to New York and applied for every job even remotely related to publishing. Eventually I was hired by On the Street Magazine as a lowly online sales rep—but I was sure it would be just a matter of time before I was promoted.”

      “And were you?”

      She smiled. “I was finally offered an editorial assistant job just a month before the wedding.”

      “I hope they’re holding the job for you?”

      Laurel hesitated. “They are. But to be honest, I’m getting some pressure to come back soon or give my notice.”

      Across the street, the door to the post office opened. Burt waved, then started in their direction. And then a rusted pickup truck rumbled in from the west, pulling up next to Corb’s black Jeep Cherokee.

      Laurel stood, and as she did so, felt the now-familiar queasiness in the pit of her stomach. “I’d better get back to work. Looks like the lunch rush is about to begin.”

      “See you, Laurel. It was nice talking with you.”

      They made direct eye contact then, and Laurel felt the zap of instant attraction that had first pulled her to him when they’d met at the airport.

      But this time she felt a second zap, too.

      The tiredness. The nausea.

      It might not be a bug or the unaccustomed work at the café.

      She could be...

      No. She didn’t dare even think the word. Because being that was the last thing she needed right now.

      And she was pretty sure it would be the last thing Corb needed, too.

      Chapter Two

      At five o’clock, Laurel put out the Closed sign, then wiped down the kitchen counters.

      The Cinnamon Stick was a small establishment, intended to serve primarily take-out coffee and baked goods, though Winnie always had homemade soup and sandwiches on the menu, as well. For those who opted to stay—and there seemed to be plenty of people who wanted to do this—there were four stools at the counter and two big booths on the window wall.

      Laurel loved the colors Winnie had chosen for the bakery—delicious hues that made her think of pumpkin pie, caramels and mocha lattes. Unfortunately the idea of eating any of those foods was totally unappealing right now.

      All afternoon the suspicion that she might be pregnant had grown into a near certainty. After all, she hadn’t needed to buy tampons once since she’d left the city.

      And she’d been too wrapped up in Winnie’s problems to notice.

      Hell.

      Wasn’t it her luck that just as things were starting to work out for her careerwise, something would happen to set her back?

      Not for the first time, she wished Winnie was here with her, which was silly, because if Winnie were able to stay in Coffee Creek and work at the café, then Laurel would be back in the city living in her cute, if miniscule apartment, working her butt off at her new job.

      But even if she’d left for New York the day after the wedding, as originally scheduled, she’d still be pregnant.

      Oh, Lord, she just had to talk to Winnie.

      Once she was satisfied that the café was clean and ready for the next day, Laurel went down the hall. To the left was the customer restroom. To the right, a door that led to a staircase and the second floor of the building.

      She was barely in the door of the one-bedroom apartment when the phone started ringing.

      Laurel kicked off her sandals—oh, that felt good!—then dashed for the receiver, hoping it would be Winnie. “Hello?”

      “Hey! How are you doing?”

      Her friend sounded stronger. More like herself. “I’m fine. How about you?”

      “I had a good day today. Really. Got out of bed. Showered.”

      Her tone was self-deprecating, but Laurel understood the effort that had been required. “That’s good, Winnie.”

      “I gave myself a talking-to last night. Decided this baby was going to be a mental case if I didn’t get a grip on myself.”

      “No one can blame you for grieving. It’s only natural.”

      “It’s not like I’m forgetting about Brock. That’s not even possible. But I have to start facing a future that doesn’t include him. Mom got me started on a knitting project. That probably sounds lame. It’s really helping, though.”

      “Are you kidding? Knitting is cool.” Laurel went to the sofa and settled in for a long chat.

      “So how are things going at the Cinnamon Stick?”

      “Pretty good.” Laurel gave her the cash register totals for the past week, then filled her in on some of the day’s highlights, omitting, for the moment, the visit from Corb and Jackson.

      “That sounds great. I can’t thank you enough for all you’re doing for me.”

      “You’d do the same for me. You know you would.”

      “But you can’t keep putting your life on hold. You have to book your plane ticket home. Tonight. I’m serious.”

      “And what about the Cinnamon Stick?”

      Winnie sighed. “We’ll just have to close it until after the baby is born. My doctor is saying work is out of the question for me. Maybe if I had a desk job. But I can’t be on my feet all day long. It would be too much of a strain.”

      “I’ll vouch for that.”

      “Oh, Laurel. It’s exhausting you, isn’t it?”

      Yes. But for reasons she wasn’t quite ready to explain. Not until she knew more about Winnie’s plans.

      “Are you going to stay with your parents until the baby is born?”

      “It’s looking that way.”

      “Well then, maybe you should rethink telling the Lamberts about the baby in person. Jackson and Corb were in town today and I felt awkward when they asked about you. They should be told. I mean, this kid is going to be their nephew.”

      “Yes. And Olive’s grandchild. Believe me, I know.” Winnie sucked in a long breath. “And I would tell them if I hadn’t had such an awful relationship with Olive.”

      She’d complained about Olive before. And while Laurel agreed that Olive wasn’t the warmest person, she did think Winnie was exaggerating.

      “How can anyone not like you? I mean, you’re so easygoing, without any strong opinions on anything.”

      “Exactly. I’m perfect, but Olive doesn’t appreciate that.”

      They both laughed. Then Winnie continued, “According to Brock, my first faux pas was serving Maddie Turner at the café.”

      “Maddie’s one of your best customers. Why wouldn’t you serve her?”

      “Because.” She paused dramatically. “Maddie Turner and Olive Lambert are sisters.”

      Mentally Laurel compared the two women. “Impossible.” Olive was fine-boned and elegant, while Maddie was sturdy and down-to-earth.

      “Yes. Estranged sisters. I guess it’s an unspoken rule in the Lambert family that no one is to talk to Maddie or even acknowledge the fact that she exists.”

      “How bizarre.