Triplets for the Texan
Author
Janice Maynard
Reads
19,7K
Chapters
17
One
Royal, Texas, was a great place to call home. Running her own ad agency, being a member of the esteemed Texas Cattleman’s Club and maintaining a hectic social life kept Simone Parker plenty busy. Busy enough not to worry about the ghosts of lost loves.
Today, her luck had run out. Five years. It had been five long years since she’d last laid eyes on Troy Hutchinson. Now here she sat in a freezing exam room at Royal Memorial, naked but for a thin paper hospital gown, and in walked the man who broke her heart. Pressing her knees together instinctively, she gripped the edge of the exam table and blurted out the first thing that came to her mind.
“Where’s Dr. Markman?”
Hutch—almost nobody called him Troy—stared at her impassively. “He took a position in Houston. I’m the new head of the maternal-fetal medicine department.”
Made sense. Royal’s state-of-the-art hospital hired only the best.
It occurred to her that Hutch didn’t look at all surprised to see her. But then again, he’d obviously glanced at her chart before entering the room. He was as gorgeous as ever—chocolate eyes, closely cropped black hair and mocha skin. The only thing missing was his killer smile.
Tall and lean, in his physical prime, the man was impressive even without the lab coat. Wearing it, he exuded authority and masculinity. Making Simone feel small and stupid.
Her stomach curled with nausea. Today’s situation was volatile enough without having to confront old lovers. As if the term applied. She’d been a twenty-two-year-old virgin when she and Hutch first hooked up. She’d had only one relationship after that, and it had been brief and unexceptional.
For most of her life she’d chosen to hide behind her reputation as a shallow party girl. Even Hutch had believed it in the beginning. Until he’d realized he was the first. Then there had been hell to pay.
Her palms started to sweat. “You can’t be my doctor.”
“Of course not,” he said. “Dr. Markman left rather abruptly. We’ve been in the process of notifying his patients. Somehow, your appointment fell through the cracks. Dr. Janine Fetter has agreed to take over your case...with your permission, of course.”
“That’s fine,” Simone said impatiently. “But that doesn’t explain why you’re here.”
A faint smile lightened his face. “Don’t shoot the messenger. Scheduling should have postponed your ultrasound until next week. Dr. Fetter doesn’t have any openings until then. She’s not even here today.”
Great, just great. Hutch knew every inch of her body. Even so, no way in heck was she going to calmly put her feet in those stirrups and let him examine her. That was too icky for words. “What are my options?”
“You can make an appointment for next week and go home...”
“Or?”
“Or if you don’t want to wait, I can go over the ultrasound with you. But no exam,” he said quickly.
“Ah.” Simone had badgered the tech to explain all the grainy images on the screen, but the woman had been well trained. She’d done her job, escorted Simone to yet another exam room and left her to worry for forty-five minutes. Plenty of time for a single woman to regret the impulsive decision that had led her to this moment.
“So tell me,” she snapped, her nerves getting the best of her. “I’m not pregnant, am I? Don’t worry. I won’t fall apart. I knew the odds when I went into this.”
Pursuing fertility treatments and intrauterine insemination had been more involved than she had ever imagined. Even now, she wouldn’t be entirely unhappy if it hadn’t worked. Picking out a sperm donor and dealing with hormone shots had been stressful, expensive and time-consuming. It had also given her plenty of opportunity to rethink her hasty decision.
Her late grandfather had left instructions with the executors of his will that she would be entitled to half of his vast estate—five million dollars cash and the family homestead, worth infinitely more—if, and only if, she produced an heir to continue the family bloodline. With no plans to settle down anytime soon, she’d decided to go the route of single motherhood.
Trying to live up to the terms of her grandfather’s will—without weighing the cost—was, in retrospect, probably a stupid decision.
She must have had gut-level doubts from the beginning, because she hadn’t even told her two best friends, Naomi and Cecelia. Naomi had seemed distracted and tense ever since she got back from Europe, and Cecelia had been on cloud nine after reuniting with former flame Deacon Chase. So Simone had kept her plans to herself.
For the first time, Hutch’s facade cracked. His jaw firmed, and his eyes were bleak. “No one told me you had gotten married, Simone. Though, knowing you, I’m not surprised you kept your maiden name. Don’t you want the baby’s father to be here when we talk about these results? Can you contact him? We could reschedule for later this afternoon.”
She stared at Hutch. “Have you read through my file?”
“Not yet. But I will, of course. All I’ve seen is the ultrasound report. I only came on board officially yesterday. To be honest, I’m still a little jet-lagged.”
And no wonder. He’d spent the past half decade in Sudan with Doctors Without Borders. The man was almost too good to be true, strong, sensitive and—when he unleashed that boy-next-door charm—virtually irresistible.
Though they had no longer been a couple when he left Royal, Texas, in the intervening months and years, she had worried about him. Malaria. Viral hemorrhagic fever. Political uprisings. He had thrust himself into a hotbed of danger and never looked back. Even without being there, Simone knew he had saved untold numbers of mothers and babies.
Hutch had completed not one but two stints in Sudan. When he hadn’t returned after the first one, she knew for sure he was no longer interested in resurrecting their relationship—although that was possibly too mature a word for the affair. She and Hutch together had been like fireworks, burning hot and bright and beautiful, but over too soon.
While she mentally rehashed the painful past, Hutch waited patiently, his expression guarded. Having him eye her with the impassivity of a medical professional hurt. A lot.
Whipping up a batch of righteous indignation helped. It was none of Hutch’s concern what she did with her life. “There is no father in the picture,” she said bluntly. “Go ahead and tell me what you have to say.”
For a split second, something flickered across his face. Shock? Probably. Relief? Unlikely.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, his tone so formal it could have frozen the air itself. “Are you divorced? Widowed?”
“I don’t think you’re supposed to ask me that, Dr. Hutchinson.” She was furious suddenly—at herself for making such a mess of things, at Hutch for having the audacity to come home looking wonderful and completely unapproachable, if a bit tired, and at life in general.
He swallowed. “My apologies. You’re right. That was out of line.”
Despite her best intentions, she couldn’t stay mad. Not today. And besides, what did it matter if she told him? Not the whole truth, of course. But he had her file at his disposal. Sooner or later, he would know. She might as well put a good spin on it.
“I wanted to have a baby,” she said bluntly. Maybe for all the wrong reasons, but still... “I chose to use an anonymous sperm donor, because I had no significant other in the picture. This baby will be mine and mine alone. There are plenty of single mothers out there doing very well. I have a good job, financial resources and plenty of friends. I’ll be able to handle motherhood, Hutch. You don’t have to look at me like that.”
Her decisions about parenthood and her grandfather’s bequest were her own. She didn’t want to be judged, and in truth, the facts could very easily be misinterpreted, leaving her in a bad light.
It was a real worry, particularly since the mysterious Maverick had somehow found out about her fertility treatments and threatened to expose her secrets. She pushed that situation to the back of her mind. Dealing with Hutch was enough drama for one day.
He stared at her with such intensity she felt oddly faint. Her heart beat loudly in her ears. Hutch’s expression was a mixture of incredulity, pity and disapproval. Or at least that was how she interpreted it. At one time, she could guess what he was thinking. That was long ago, though.
Tossing the manila folder on the counter beside the computer, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “I have no doubts about your ability to care for a baby,” he said.
She frowned. “Then why all the mystery? Why do you look like you’re about to deliver words of doom? Is it something else? A tumor? Some weird cancer? Am I dying? That would suck.”
His lips twitched. “Not at all, Simone. You’re having triplets.”
* * *
Hutch cursed when Simone went milk pale and keeled over. He caught her before she hit the floor, but just barely. Hell, he knew better. It wasn’t the kind of news one delivered with a baseball bat. As usual, though, she rattled him. Even now.
Cradling her in his arms, he turned back to the exam table. His instinct was to hold her until she woke up. But that was all kinds of unethical. Instead, he laid her gently on her back and reached into the cabinet for a soft, mesh-weave blanket. Covering her all the way up to her neck, he tried not to notice the way she smelled. He could have identified her scent with his eyes closed. A mix of floral and spicy that was uniquely Simone.
She roused slowly, those incredibly long lashes fluttering as she came back to him. “What happened?”
When she tried to rise up onto her elbows, he put a hand on her shoulder to keep her down. “Give yourself a minute to recover. You’ve had a shock.”
Even befuddled and wrapped in a generic blanket, she was striking. Her blue eyes were electric, somewhere between royal and aquamarine. Her hair made as much of an impact as her eyes. The smooth, silky fall was the black of a raven’s wing...shot through with blue in the sunlight. He tried not to remember what it felt like to wrap his hands in all that thick, glorious hair. At one time, it had reached almost to her waist. The style was shorter now, but still a couple of inches below her shoulders.
Her gaze cleared gradually. “So I wasn’t dreaming.” The words were not really a question.
“No.”
“I want to sit up.”
He helped her, though it was difficult to touch her. She made him feel like a gawky adolescent. That was bloody uncomfortable for a man supposed to be in charge of Royal, Texas’s world-class obstetrics department.
“I apologize for springing it on you, Simone. There’s no easy way to drop that bomb. I have to tell you I’m surprised and concerned that you’ve chosen this option.”
“I’m not getting any younger.” The set of her jaw was mulish.
He remembered all too well what Simone was like when she made up her mind about something. “You’re not even thirty. Couldn’t you have waited and taken the traditional route?” he asked.
The wash of color that had returned to her face leached away again. Her eyes glittered with something that might have been pain or anger. “I tried that once or twice. I’m not a fan. Men complicate things.”
The blunt retort was a direct shot at him. It found its mark. Clearly, Simone still blamed him for their breakup. He wanted to fight back, but it was pointless after all this time. His job wasn’t to be her friend, or even her boyfriend. He was charged with overseeing her medical care.
“I suppose it’s a moot point now,” he said, feeling weary and discouraged. “Unless you’ve changed your mind. Do you want to terminate the pregnancy? If that’s your decision, hospital staff would of course preserve your privacy.”
Simone blinked. “Is that what you think I should do?”
He weighed his words carefully. “Having triplets is an enormous commitment, even for a two-parent family. You would be doing this alone.”
She stared at him. Her restless fingers pleated the edges of the blanket. “I want these babies.”
He cocked his head, trying to read her emotions. “You wanted one baby, Simone. I think you need to weigh the situation seriously. While it’s still very early.”
“There’s nothing to consider. I made a choice. I have to live with the consequences.”
“For the rest of your life.”
Hot color streaked her cheekbones. “I know you think I’m flighty and impulsive and a lightweight. What you don’t realize is that I’ve grown up a lot in the time you’ve been gone. I can do this.”
“But why?” That’s what confused him. It wasn’t as if she was running out of time. Besides, she had never particularly struck him as the maternal type.
“My reasons are my business, Dr. Hutchinson. Am I free to go now?”
There were secrets in her eyes and in her heart. He knew it. The two of them might have been separated by time and distance for the past few years, but there had been a moment when he had known everything about her. Every thought. Every feeling. Every beat of her energetic, enthusiastic, passionate heart.
The Simone he knew jumped into life with both feet, usually via the deep end. She had her naysayers—Royal was a relatively small town with a long memory. Her youthful missteps had cost her. A reputation was a hard thing to shake. But he knew she had a good heart.
“Just hear me out. You should know, Simone, that a multiple pregnancy immediately puts you in the high-risk category. The hospital hired me for my expertise. I’ll be overseeing your case indirectly. Dr. Fetter will alert me if any problems arise. Will that be a problem?”
Simone blinked. “Do you have any crackers?”
“Excuse me?” Had his hearing taken a hit in Sudan?
“I need saltines. I’m about to puke.”
Oh, lord. “Hold on,” he said. Opening the door to the hallway, he bellowed for a nurse. The poor woman must have sprinted, because she was back in two minutes with the crackers and a cup of ice chips.
He took them with muttered thanks, closed the door firmly and turned to Simone. She wasn’t white anymore. More like a transparent shade of green. Grabbing a plastic basin from the cabinet, he put it in her lap and unwrapped the crackers. “Slowly,” he said.
“Don’t worry,” she muttered. “I’m afraid to move.”
“Poor baby.” He’d seen pregnant women almost every day of his professional life, but none had ever touched him as deeply as this one. Without overthinking it, he put an arm behind her back to support her. “I’ll hold the cracker,” he said. “You nibble.”
It was a measure of how miserable she was that she didn’t fight him. No snappy comeback. No insistence she could feed herself. When she leaned into him, his heart actually skipped a beat. A huge neon sign flashed in his brain. Warning! Warning!
Even though he knew he couldn’t get close to her again, his body betrayed him. She was so familiar, so delightfully feminine. Every caveman instinct he possessed told him to fight for her, to protect her. Women were tough, far tougher than men at times. Still, this Simone who had come to him today was at a low spot. He wanted to make it all right for her.
Yet he was the last person she needed. He’d suffered too much heartache, witnessed too much heartbreak to offer Simone anything resembling the love they had once shared.
She managed the first cracker and started on the second. In between bites, he offered the ice chips. Four crackers in each pack, eight in all. Eventually, she finished them.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’m okay now.”
It was patently untrue, but he took her words at face value. He handed her what was left of the cup of ice. “I have other patients to see,” he said, wondering why the thought of leaving this room was so unappealing.
“I know,” she said. “Go. I’m fine. I’m glad you didn’t die in Africa.”
He chuckled. “Is that all you have to say?”
“I don’t want to add to your ego. I won’t be surprised if the town makes you the patron saint of Royal. Saint Hutch. It has a ring to it, don’t you think?”
“You’re such a brat.”
“Some things never change.” Her teeth dug into her bottom lip.
Gradually, her color was returning to normal. The doctor in him approved. “That’s not true, Simone. Neither of us is who we were five years ago. I know I’m not.”
She tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “Is that a polite warning? You’re telling me not to get any ideas?” Her sidelong glance held a touch of wry mischief.
Even now, she had the power to shock him. While he’d been willing to dance around their painful past, Simone plunged right into the murky depths. Maybe she knew him better than he realized.
“I wasn’t, but I probably should have.”
“You’re not my doctor.”
“No. Not technically.” He paused, weighing his words. “Perhaps this is presumptuous on my part, but you opened this can of worms. I knew we would see each other again, Simone. It was inevitable if I came home. But...”
“But you’ve moved on.”
“Yes. I have.” He didn’t tell her the rest. He couldn’t.
Simone nodded. “I understand, Hutch. I think it’s obvious I have my hands full, too. Maybe we can be friends, though.”
“Maybe.” He let the lie roll off his lips. As much as he wanted to help her, he couldn’t get close. Not again. “Are you okay now? The nausea’s better?”
She handed him the basin. “False alarm. You’re good at this. Maybe you should be a doctor.”
His smile was genuine. Simone had always been able to make him laugh, even when he took himself too seriously. He reached in his pocket for a business card and scrawled his cell number on the back. “I need you to promise,” he said, handing it to her.
“Promise what?” She handled the little rectangle as if it were a poisonous snake.
“I want you to promise that you’ll call me immediately if you have any problems.”
“What about Dr. Fetter?”
He shoved his hands in the pockets of his lab coat. “She’s a busy doctor with a lot of patients.”
“And you’re not?”
They stared at each other in silence. “Hell, Simone. You’re not making this easy.”
“I don’t understand you.”
“We share a past. I want to make sure you and these babies are okay.”
“Saint Hutch.”
If that’s what she wanted to think, he might as well let her. It was far better than the truth. “I care about you,” he said quietly. “I mean it. Any hour. Night or day. This isn’t a typical pregnancy. I want to hear you say it.”
She lifted one shoulder in an elegant gesture he remembered well. “Fine. I promise. Are you happy now?”
He hadn’t been happy for a very long time. “It will do. I’ll be in touch, Simone. Take care of yourself.”
