Foolish Expectations (6 page)

“One of the others will cover your shift. Either way, we’ll make do. No one wants to be served by a waitress who’s gagging and running to the bathroom every five minutes.”

“It’s the smell of the food that’s—”

“If you finish that sentence, I’ll fire you,” her boss threatened.

As owner of the bar and grill, Danny ran a tight ship and took as much pride in the food that left the kitchen as he did the premium spirits he stocked in the bar.

She gave him a weak smile. “You know what I mean. I’m just sick to my stomach and the smells—any of them—only make it worse.”

“Then do yourself a favor and go to a doctor. But don’t come back until you’re over this bug. Last thing I want is for you to get the other girls sick.”

Bailey finished up her tables and clocked out before noon with only forty-three dollars in tips lining her pocket. She hated leaving them in a bind during the lunch rush and could’ve used the extra cash, but she was in no condition to stick around. Not when she couldn’t shake the nausea and had already vomited twice.

On the drive home, she considered going to the emergency room, but knew she couldn’t afford the hefty bill that would surely follow. With her car breaking down every other week and the debt she already had, she didn’t need more financial problems. Danny had been right about that; stress was definitely playing a role.

Not long ago, she’d walked out on a man who had promised her the stars. Then, several hours later, she’d gone to bed with one who actually showed them to her. Now she couldn’t even look at a horse trailer without thinking about that night. Sad thing was, she wouldn’t change a thing. Well, except for maybe the part where Casanova broke the…
Oh, shit!

Her car swerved, but she managed to correct the wheel before she ended up in the ditch. She pulled onto the shoulder and stopped.

No, it wasn’t that.

Couldn’t be that.

Could it?

Just that morning, she’d awakened with cramps and figured it was time for her period to start. She even remembered the exact day it would begin, too. June nineteenth. She picked up her phone and checked the date on the screen. It was the seventeenth...of July?

Oh, fuck! No way.

Her body weakened, but she wasn’t sure if it was due to the illness or the idea that she could possibly be knocked up by a virtual stranger. This was exactly why everyone referred to it as reckless abandon. Though they hadn’t really been reckless. At least not intentionally. Neither of them had set out to play a penile version of Russian Roulette. It had just happened, even after they—or rather
he
—had tried to protect them from it. They’d even used condoms every time afterward just to be safe.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Maybe she was wrong. How had she missed her period for a whole month without noticing? But with all the bullshit she’d been dealing with over the past month, she knew exactly how.

Still, to be certain, she needed to check the calendar hanging on her kitchen wall.

Right now.

For her own sanity.

I just have to rule it out, that’s all.

Frantically, she drove home, and within minutes, pulled into her driveway. She darted up the stairs to her small one-bedroom apartment and straight inside to her calendar, while chanting, “Please be food poisoning! Please be food poisoning!”

She didn’t bother with a dramatic pause. No sense in making it into a bigger deal by pacing endlessly while trying to build up the courage to look at it. Physically, she had most of the signs of a common illness. Weak. Upset stomach. Hot flashes. Nausea. Never mind that most of the symptoms developed while she was counting the days since her last period.

Oh, fuck me.

Bailey was late. Really late. Basically, she’d missed boarding the menstruation train for the last damn month. But that didn’t mean anything, did it?

She glared at the calendar again with mixed emotions. Maybe she was an idiot and counted wrong. Or maybe she had counted right and was still an idiot. Because the last thing she needed was to get herself into a predicament with a man she’d never see again…even if a small part of her wanted to.

Tears burned her eyes, but she forced them back. To be certain, she’d have to take a pregnancy test. But the idea of going to the drugstore and making that humiliating purchase made her feel even worse than she already did. So she decided to wait it out over the weekend and see if it wasn’t just a stomach bug.

Surely she would know if she were pregnant.

Feeling better already, Bailey made herself a turkey sandwich, figuring it would be something she could hold down. Not a good decision. After going another round with the toilet, she brushed her teeth and settled on the couch wearing a comfy pair of old sweats and an oversized T-shirt.

She dozed in and out while listening to the sounds of the outside world vibrating through her walls: a low-flying plane, an eighteen-wheeler with obnoxious brakes, and her elderly neighbor shooing away a dog that had apparently lifted his leg on the man’s bicycle.

Then someone knocked on her door.

She ignored it at first, but the persistent person on the other side decided that polite wasn’t the way to go and started banging. “Christ, give me a second,” she yelled as she made her way to the door and flung it open. “Who the hell do you think you—”

He leaned comfortably against her doorway with an irritated smirk. “Nash Sutherland. But you already knew that, didn’t you,
Bailey
?”

What the hell?

“Nash, I…” A second went by before she registered his words. “Wait a minute. How’d you know my real name? And my address?”

He held up a thin piece of plastic she recognized.

“You stole my credit card?”

“No, the waitress who served you at the bar saw me recently and said you forgot it when you stormed out that night. I told her I’d get it back to you.”

“Oh.” Bailey shrugged. “Well, I called and reported it missing over a month ago. It’s no good now. But that still doesn’t explain how you found me.”

“Your real name’s on it, and I googled you to get the rest. Bailey Hobbs, twenty-six years old, resides at 315 Morgan Street, and wants every guy who takes her virginity to call her
Sheila
. It’s amazing what you can find on the internet these days.”

Her cheeks heated as the memory of that night flashed through her mind. “I
was
a virgin, damn it!”

His eyes glazed over, and he blew out a hard breath. “Sweetheart, you couldn’t have fooled me otherwise, even if you wanted to. But your name sure the hell isn’t Sheila. You lied about that.”

She put her hands on her hips. “I didn’t lie! At least not to
you
. You heard me give the other guy in the bar a line about my name being Sheila.”

“You didn’t correct me, though.”

“Because I walked out. And you never asked me my name, anyway. Guess you were too worried about getting into my pants.”

Uninvited, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “Look who’s talking. You got what you wanted and hauled ass before I woke up. No goodbye. Nothing.”

“What? I said goodbye. The note on the mirror…”

“‘
Thanks, I needed that!’
was not a goodbye.”

“Well, excuse me for not being an expert on one-night-stands. I thought that’s how it’s done. A clean break. You know, no awkward morning after.”

“You’ve seen too many damn movies,” he said, huffing out another breath. “The only thing that would’ve been awkward the next morning were all the positions I planned to put you in.”

Mentally, she gasped
.
Jesus.
That’s like having the winning raffle ticket, but not knowing I needed to be present to win.
Her pulse quickened, but she shook the images of his naked body out of her head. Damn it. They were getting off track. “Why were you looking for me, anyway?”

His blue eyes flickered over her face, and he frowned. “You look like hell.”

“Oh, to compliment me,” she said, scowling. “Thanks for that. Now if you’ll excuse me…” She tried to push him toward the door, but he didn’t budge.

“What’s wrong with you? You look…sick.” His eyebrow quirked into an abnormally high position and his gaze lowered to her stomach.

Oh, great.

She knew exactly what he was thinking. “I’m sick, not pregnant.”

“Well, maybe you should take a test to prove it.”

His immediate distrust pissed her off. “What, you don’t believe me?”

“No,
Sheila
, I don’t. But who could blame me after you gave me a false name and then ran out on me?”

“You’re a real jackass, you know that? You
assumed
my name was Sheila, then have the nerve to show up at my front door and accuse me of lying to you. If you do this with all the ladies you’ve slept with, then it’s no wonder you don’t get more than one night with a woman.”

His sighed and grasped her arm lightly. “Come on, I’m taking you to a doctor.”

“No!” she yelled, slinging his arm off hers. “Didn’t you hear a word I just said? I’m
not
pregnant.”

“Then you won’t mind proving it.”

“I don’t have to prove anything to
you
. Go away and leave me alone.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I never close a door without seeing what’s on the other side first. So,
Bailey
, if you want me out of here, then you’re going to have to prove it to me first.”

She sighed with frustration.

Not only was Nash Sutherland the most demanding and infuriating man on the planet, but he had the worst timing ever. Wreckage from the last head-on collision she had with a man still littered the ground around her. There was no room in her life for another brick wall. Even if she did have his baby on board.

Just the idea of being possibly knocked up by him made her stomach hurt more. She needed time to figure this out before she brought him in on any of it. And the only way to get that time was to make him leave. Now. “Look, I already took a pregnancy test earlier today.”

He rolled his eyes dismissively. “Yeah, right.”

“Again you don’t believe me? Wow, you’re a real jackass, you know that?” She gestured nonchalantly toward the bathroom. “Go look for yourself. The test is in the box in the bathroom trashcan. Oh, by the way, it’s negative, you lunatic.”

She thought for sure with all of her bravado that he wouldn’t actually go and look for himself. But the untrusting bastard did just that.
Shit.

He stormed into the bathroom and seconds later marched right back out with an empty trashcan. “I may be a lunatic, sweetheart, but at least I’m not a fucking liar.”

Chapter Six

Nash was furious.

He had never spoken to a woman like that before, but he couldn’t believe she had lied so easily to his face about something so important. Especially after what they’d shared. For over a month, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head. He’d wanted to see her again, touch her again. Now, it felt like she’d punched him in the gut. “Come on, I’m taking you to my family’s doctor.”

“No.”

“Goddamnit, Bailey. Why the hell not?”

“I’m not pregnant, okay? I woke up cramping this morning, so I’m sure I’m about to start my period any time now. If it doesn’t start by Monday, I’ll go get checked out.”

Dread filled him and his heart pounded harder. “But if you are pregnant, you could be miscarrying. That’s one of the signs.”

Bailey paused, as if she hadn’t even thought of it as a possibility. “Okay, fine. Then I’ll go to the low-cost clinic around the corner.”

“You don’t have to do that. I can pay—”

“No! I don’t want you to pay for anything. I already told you, I’m not pregnant.”

He sighed. “Fine, but I’m driving.”

“No, I—”

“Damn it. Don’t fight me on this, Bailey. Just get into the damn truck.”

Surprising enough, she did as he asked without arguing.
Thank God.
But they sat in silence all the way over to the clinic. No doubt she was scared and probably didn’t want to be alone, but Nash had his own selfish reasons for driving her. He needed to know if this woman was carrying his unborn child or not, and apparently, he couldn’t trust her to be honest about it.

Not only that, but he was worried…for her. Even if she wasn’t pregnant with his child, the desire to make sure
she
was okay was unnervingly strong.

After registering at the front desk as a walk-in, they waited for a half hour before her name was finally called. She didn’t seem surprised when Nash stood and followed her back. A short, plump nurse wearing pink scrubs and a serious face showed them to a back room, stopping him from entering until after Bailey had changed into a gown. Once she allowed him entry, the nurse pointed to a chair in the corner and banished him to it.

The nurse checked Bailey’s vitals, noting that her blood pressure was a little high. “Probably stress-related,” she said, never looking up from her chart. It was as if she were speaking to herself rather than the patient.

Bailey tolerated the nurse’s abruptness, but Nash couldn’t help but grind his teeth across the room. He didn’t like it one bit. Or the nurse. The woman had the sourness of a pickle. But what did he really expect? Bailey was an uninsured patient with an unconfirmed pregnancy who was at a low-cost clinic because she couldn’t afford to pay for her care. At least that’s how the nurse probably looked at it.

But Nash
could
afford it. Not only did he have his own law practice, but he was a goddamn Sutherland. His family had made billions in the oil field after his grandparents, Bud and Celia Sutherland, struck it rich during the oil rush. Once they’d turned Sutherland Industries over to their five children—one of whom was Nash’s father—his grandparents retired to live out their days on White Willow Ranch just outside of Houston.

His family would be horrified if they learned he’d taken the possible mother of his child to a low-cost clinic when the Sutherlands had their own private doctors and team of specialists in nearby Houston.