Expecting His Brother's Baby. Karen Rose Smith

a little.

      In two long strides, Brock was beside her, his arm around her, steadying her. “What’s wrong?”

      “I just got a little dizzy.” With his arm around her, she was practically in his arms…practically against his chest…practically holding onto his shoulder.

      “You came up too fast,” he murmured, his chin close to her cheek.

      When she took a deep breath, her hand slipped from his shoulder. He felt the path of it scorch through his shirt. The heat of her body fired his. Remembering that kiss so long ago, he wondered how she’d kiss now that she was a woman.

      Damn it, he couldn’t go there.

      Straightening, he put some distance between them. Only a few inches, but it helped. “Maybe you’d better take a nap this afternoon.”

      “I don’t want to have trouble getting to sleep tonight.”

      “Then go prop your feet up on the sofa. I can start a fire and you can listen to music.”

      “I need to go upstairs and finish the beadwork on a Christmas present.”

      “One-handed?”

      “I can use my other hand if I’m careful. I just can’t move my shoulder.”

      “Christmas is still weeks away.”

      “I have a lot to do. I’m preparing for a baby as well as Christmas. I don’t trust myself with a sewing machine yet, but I can work at the table for a little while.”

      He’d seen the table set up with containers of beads, pieces of leather and special tools.

      Wanting to keep an eye on her, he figured out how to do it. “I could start going through the ranch’s records while you’re there. Then if there’s something I don’t understand, you could explain it.” He wanted to start with the year before his father’s death and look at the figures for each succeeding year to see where the money had gone, to examine what expenses had taken their toll, to read why Saddle Ridge had gone into a decline.

      “All right. We can do that. I’ve kept the books since Jack died.”

      “You have?”

      Drawing away from him, she pulled a pack of saltines from the counter and took out a few. “You know Alex always said he didn’t have a head for figures.”

      “I know that’s what he said. But I’m not sure I always believed him. He preferred being in the barn to sorting receipts.”

      “Wouldn’t anybody?” she quipped.

      “Maybe. Maybe not.”

      “How about you?” she asked. “Which would you prefer?”

      “I’d prefer the barn,” he replied easily. “But I know reports and vet records and feed expenses all go along with it.”

      “Alex only liked to do the things he liked to do,” she murmured.

      There was something in her tone that made him look a little closer. Yes, he saw grief in her eyes, but was there more than that? Had she helped run the ranch into the ground, too? He couldn’t see much evidence of that. Still, Kylie could have an expensive hobby he didn’t know about besides making Christmas presents for her friends.

      “It would be nice if we could just forget the drudgery, but we can’t,” he remarked.

      The statement was meant to be leading, and he waited for her to say something else. Something more. He wanted to know if the pain in her eyes was from grief and loss or regret. But she didn’t say more and the silence weighed heavily between them.

      Finally he nodded to the saltines. “I don’t see how you can eat those. They taste like cardboard.”

      “They don’t,” she protested with a smile. “Especially not when they’re fresh. I’m trying to stay away from that chocolate cake Gwen brought.”

      “She brought it for you to eat.”

      “Oh, and I’m sure I will. But I’m trying to be good for today. Are you ready to go up now?”

      For some insane reason, he wanted to sweep her up into his arms and carry her up those stairs. He wanted to make sure she didn’t fall, didn’t trip, didn’t overuse her shoulder. He was just going to stick close to her for a few days until she was feeling better, yet he realized the thought of doing that was both a pleasure and a pain. When he was around her, he knew he should stay away from her. When he wasn’t around her, he worried about her. He attributed it all to his big-brother protective instincts taking over. She was such a little bit of a thing, even pregnant.

      Had his brother felt this protective of her?

      That question gave him a stone-cold feeling. He motioned toward the staircase. “Ladies first.”

      Once upstairs in the spare room, Brock realized how bad an idea this was. The room was small, barely big enough for the computer setup, Kylie’s sewing machine, her craft supplies and the table she worked on. There was a soft leather purse laying on the table with fringes that were partially beaded.

      When Kylie sat in the wooden chair at the table, he asked, “Don’t you want a pillow or something?”

      “A pillow would just slide off. This chair’s just right with the table.” She switched on an intensity light where she was working.

      Although he booted up the computer, that wasn’t where his attention stayed. Maybe it was the scent of Kylie’s shampoo, or some kind of lotion. She’d never been one for perfume. She’d always chosen natural scents. This combination was something like peach and spice. At least that’s what it smelled like to him.

      When he glanced at her over his shoulder, she was already busy at work. She had her left arm propped on the table and was using her hands to hold the leather. Her head was bent and her silky, glossy hair, more golden than any wheat field, fell lazily over her shoulder. As she used tweezers and wire, her fingers almost looked as if they were dancing.

      Again he turned his focus to the computer screen and the icons there, clicked on the accounting program and found the year he was looking for. But Kylie working silently less than five feet away was a distraction he couldn’t ignore.

      Out of the blue she asked, “What size turkey did you order?”

      “It’s big. I just told Vince Shafer to hold one for me. How long has he had the store on Bear Claw Road? He used to sell from his ranch.”

      Kylie had her lips pursed as she concentrated on slipping the bead onto the piece of rawhide. “Mmm, about three years, I guess. It’s only been the last one or two he’s gone organic with some of the vegetables. I like that idea, especially now that I’m pregnant.” Her gaze came up to meet Brock’s and he saw there hopes and dreams and longings that twisted in his chest.

      She broke eye contact first and went back to her beadwork.

      “How did Alex feel about being a father-to-be?” Brock asked nonchalantly, though he was feeling anything but nonchalant.

      She took her time in answering. When she did, it was evasive. “He was getting used to the idea.”

      “My guess is, he did want a son so he’d be able to teach him all the secrets of bull riding.”

      After a moment, Kylie responded, “We never really discussed that.” Then she stood. “I think I am going to take that nap. This position’s hurting my shoulder and…and I don’t want to make it worse than it is.”

      When she walked to the door, Brock thought she was as graceful as ever, pregnant or not.

      Then she was gone, just like that, leaving him with too many questions.

      He was going to find the answers…and soon.