Expecting His Brother's Baby. Karen Rose Smith

the container was still three quarters full and heavy.

      Brock saw her go for the handle and was quickly beside her, his hand covering hers. “I’ll get it.”

      She didn’t argue. She usually used two hands to maneuver it.

      At the table he asked, “Do you want a glass of milk besides what’s on your cereal?”

      “Half a glass.”

      After he poured the milk into the bowl and the glass, he set the jug on the table and really studied her. They were standing close—close enough that she could smell the pine of his aftershave, the scent of Brock that hadn’t changed all these years. She’d pulled the upper part of her hair back in a ponytail and let the rest flow long. Now he touched her forehead beneath her bangs. With anyone else she probably would have shied away. The area where she’d hit her head was tender.

      His thumb was calloused, but oh, so gentle as it traced the edges of the bruise. “It’s changing color. It’ll be gone in a few days.”

      “I hope my shoulder heals as quickly. There are so many things I want to be doing.”

      “Like?”

      “Like finishing making Christmas gifts. Like decorating for the holidays. Like getting the nursery ready. Like doing anything in the barn I possibly can. I can’t stay out of the barn, Brock. I need the smell of hay to live.”

      Shaking his head, his hand tenderly cupped her cheek. “You can breathe in the hay. You just can’t shovel it or move it. When you’re feeling better, you can feed Feather her snacks. But that’s about it, Kylie. You know it and so do I.”

      His touch on her skin sent tingling through her body. Why was she reacting like this? Because she already missed being held? Because she missed the intimacy between a man and a woman? Because when Brock touched her, she felt cared for and almost cherished in a way she’d never felt with Alex?

      This was wrong…for both of them. When she stepped away from him, his eyes became flat and unreadable.

      The front door flew open. Gwen Langworthy and Garrett Maxwell tumbled inside.

      Seeing her in the kitchen, Gwen called, “Dix told us to come on in.”

      Gwen was carrying a chocolate bundt cake wrapped in plastic wrap.

      In his arms Garrett lugged a huge carton. Taking it to the kitchen, he set it on the table. “I’ve got meat loaf and scalloped potatoes, a tray of lasagna and a frozen apple pie.”

      Kylie’s eyes misted. “You shouldn’t have gone to all of this trouble.”

      Maneuvering around the table, Gwen gave Kylie a hug. “No trouble. We had to eat. I just made double.”

      “Garrett, this is Brock Warner, Alex’s brother. Brock, this is Garrett Maxwell, Gwen’s fiancé.”

      Brock shook the man’s hand. “Congratulations are in order. You’re marrying after Christmas?”

      “December twenty-eighth,” Garrett answered with a grin.

      Brock turned to Gwen. “And I remember you from the days you came riding here after Kylie moved in. You haven’t changed.”

      “I don’t know if that’s good or bad,” Gwen responded wryly. She patted Kylie’s shoulder. “We can’t stay and visit with you now. We have a meeting with a contractor this afternoon to talk about enlarging Garrett’s house.”

      “So there will be room for Tiffany and the baby?”

      “For them or just for us. We want Tiffany and Amy to stay as long as they need to,” Garrett interjected. “But already Tiffany is talking about getting an apartment with another young mother in the spring.”

      “I’m going to miss them terribly when they leave,” Gwen admitted.

      Kylie briefly filled in Brock. “Someone left a baby inside Gwen’s sunroom. After a search, she and Garrett found Tiffany, the young mom who hadn’t wanted to give up her baby, but hadn’t known what else to do. Gwen took them both in.”

      “It was a kind thing to do,” Brock said.

      Garrett dropped his arm around Gwen’s shoulders. “She likes mothering. If Tiffany and Amy move out, we’ll just have to work on producing some kids of our own.”

      Her cheeks flushed, Gwen murmured, “Well, they aren’t going anywhere yet. And that’s another reason we stopped by. How would the two of you like to join us for Thanksgiving dinner? Garrett’s mom is flying in and my dad and a lady he’s seeing will be joining us, too, along with Tiffany and Amy, of course.”

      Before Kylie could consider the invitation, Brock broke in. “The doctor wants Kylie to rest. Especially for the first week. She’s still pretty sore and tired and—”

      “I’m right here, Brock. I can answer for myself.” She gazed up at Gwen. “I’d really love to come, but I can’t. I have to take care of myself and the baby. Maybe next week we can get together. I should be feeling a lot better by then.” She glanced up at Brock. “You could consider going for Thanksgiving dinner at Gwen’s.”

      Appearing startled at that suggestion, he shook his head. “On Wednesday I’m picking up a turkey for us. We’re not going to let Thanksgiving go by without roasting a bird.”

      “You’re going to cook?” Kylie looked amazed.

      “I’m going to cook. I’ve developed skills over the past few years you know nothing about.”

      There was a flash of something primitive in Brock’s eyes that connected to something just as primitive in Kylie. With her gaze locked to his, she trembled. The idea of spending Thanksgiving day alone with Brock was scary, intimidating and…exciting.

      She shouldn’t be feeling excitement now. She should be mourning Alex’s loss. She should be nurturing the good memories they’d had between them. She should be remembering their friendship.

      But all she could remember was Trish’s satisfied expression. All she could feel was the deep betrayal a wife experiences when her husband turns to another woman instead of her.

      Underneath all of it was the invisible bond she felt to Brock.

      After Gwen and Garrett’s visit, Brock had skipped lunch to finish examining the property. As he came into the house that afternoon, he found Kylie washing out her soup bowl.

      “You can just leave that in the sink.” He wished she’d stop cleaning up after herself. He wished she’d stay put on the sofa, rest and heal. But she wouldn’t want to hear that again from him.

      To make conversation, he remarked, “Garrett said he used to be FBI.” He’d actually enjoyed talking to Gwen’s fiancé. They’d quickly established a rapport over computer lingo. Garrett was now a security specialist for Web sites and alarm systems. But mostly, Brock had been interested in his search-and-rescue work. As a pilot, Garrett often took off at the beep of his cell phone to look for a lost child.

      “Does Gwen know what she’s getting into, marrying a man like him?” Brock asked.

      Kylie swung around to glare at him. “What do you mean? He’s a good man.”

      “I don’t doubt that. But how does she feel when he takes off in his Skyhawk and she doesn’t know when he’s coming back?”

      “Gwen’s strong. And she knows how important Garrett’s search-and-rescue missions are to him. She already went through a rough situation with him landing his plane in a snowstorm. That’s when they both realized how much they loved each other.”

      Just from his conversation with her, Brock could tell Gwen was less traditional than Kylie, more assertive and just as stubborn.

      “He invited me to the hangar to check out his plane.”

      “Gwen’s dad hangs out there sometimes.