I don’t suppose he explained just how eagerly he offered his help,I muse, the sarcasm thick.He probably asked the dentist for a root canal with more enthusiasm than he ever showed when I needed money or a place to stay.

But I say none of this to my mother.

Drawing in a breath, I take my mom’s hand and squeeze it. “I’m working on some options,” I tell her evasively. “And I’m not going to burden you if I can manage on my own, am I? That’s not the kind of girl you raised.”

Her expression softens. “I told him the same thing.” Her shoulders lower with relief, and she pats my hand. “I just want you to love him as much as I do.”

“I know, Mom,” I tell her, choking back my honest opinion. I want her to be happy, even if her husband is acting like a manipulative man-child. But if he makes her happy, it’s not my place to say anything.

She resumes the task of shelving groceries.

“Listen, Mom, I have to make a call right now. I was trying to tell you that this isn’t the best time for a visit.”

She eyes me in surprise. “Oh sure, baby. Is it for a job?”

“Could be…”

She pats my cheeks sweetly and grabs her purse. “Say no more. I’ll get out of here. Good luck, honeybun, and let me know how it goes.”

Sweeping out the door, she leaves a trail of perfume lingering in my apartment, and a wave of nausea strikes me in the aftermath.

The faintest of smells are killing me lately.

That had been my first clue, followed by the endless nausea.

I barely manage to lock the door before sprinting to the bathroom. The pregnancy test sits on the counter where I’d left it, still a glaring, undeniable positive.

Just like the two I’d done before it.

I rise from the toilet and clean myself up, staring dully at my listless face in the mirror. The woman staring back looks nothing like that hot blonde from Vegas. I wouldn’t even recognize me.

Moving in with Greg and my mom is no longer a viable option. He and I will not last in the same house long-term.

I can already see what he’s doing—playing the helpful husband for my mom while making it crystal clear to me, without actually saying it, that he doesn’t want to help.

But maybe there is another option here, one that could work out for everyone.

Instead of telling the Collins brothers about the pregnancy, I could go to the ranch and feel them out first, get to know who they are as people before I decide if I want to have a baby with any of them.

That way, I might be able to find out which one is the real father, too, before I tell him.

But for that, I’ll have to get creative and sneaky. Very sneaky.

Marching back toward my computer, I pull up the job posting for the ranch administrator again, and fill it out before I can change my mind.

I’m playing a risky game here, but I remember how Toby looked at me the morning after. He barely remembered me then, and the other two had been polite, but distant, clouded in their hangovers when I left. Neither one moved from the couch, although they did offer coffee, breakfast, and a ride, almost by rote.

Probably because they’ve done that kind of thing before. This is good news too.

They won’t remember me now, a few pounds heavier, with auburn hair and glasses.

And they know me as Diana, not Emerson Ward.

I hit send on the application and offer a silent prayer to the universe.

How about some good news for a change? Surely I have some good karma coming my way by now, don’t I?

CHAPTER5