Page 31 of A Baby for the Texas Cowboy
He didn’t look at her as she filled out the paperwork.
Her name was called, and he stood, his arm out to help her get up.
“Not a whale yet,” she said, obviously trying to soften the rejection and go for humor, but the joke fell flat. “You don’t need to wait. I can walk to the tasting room from here.”
“The baby is my child too,” he said softly, leaning toward her so no one could overhear or see his expression. “I am not a man who ignores his child’s health or the health of its mother. Once I know that you and our child are fine, I will take you to your new apartment and leave you alone tonight. Am I clear?”
“Very. But, Anders…” Her hand was on the bare skin of his arm. He’d been in such a rush to get Tinsley into his truck and to the doctor’s he’d taken off without his shirt. Catalina had chased after him waving it like a flag. She’d tossed it to him through the open window with a grin saying that he didn’t want to have any viral videos of him striding bare-chested through hospital corridors. But her eyes had been worried.
“Anders, I’m fine. Really. I feel fine now.” Tinsley’s beautiful darkly golden gaze searched his.
But the confident tone didn’t reach her eyes. She looked worried. In pain. Alone. And it tore him up inside. He wanted to help. He wanted to make everything better, and she just kept shutting him down.
He pulled her with him and slid his arm around her waist and sent the waiting nurse his public smile. Ah shucks. Of course it was someone he knew from school.
“Humor me then because I am a long way from fine.”
“Anderson Albrecht Wolf, it’s good to see you.” Trista McNally smiled at him. “Guess you don’t spend all your time away from town. I hear congratulations are in order.”
“Good to see you, Trista,” he said wincing at the sound of his full name that he did his best to forget. “I didn’t know you’d gone into nursing.”
“Finished my RN degree two years ago and going to start more training so I can work with the moms and their new babies in the postnatal ward. Let’s get your weight first.” Trista stopped by the scale.
Tinsley shot him a look he ignored.
“Wonderful, Trista. I remember you always liked babies, but it was usually the baby goats at the fair.”
She laughed. “You remember that.”
“This is my fiancée, Tinsley Underhill. She’s new in town and will be opening up August’s tasting room sometime soon.”
Tinsley jumped at the F word. Too bad. He was tired of walking on eggshells. He seen her easily run over every cowboy, stock contractor, advertising exec, and western suited-up business owner he’d seen take a shot with her. He wasn’t going to be one more reject under her boots.
She’s mine. And he didn’t have back down in his skill set.
He hadn’t been looking to become a husband or father so soon. And Tinsley didn’t hit many points on his perfect wife list. She was beautiful and sexy, but complicated, independent, ambitious, and assertive. All great traits in a woman, but not what he’d been picturing in a wife.
He stepped back and pretended a great interest in the black-and-white baby pictures that lined the halls while Tinsley was weighed. He might be pushing Tinsley to her brink right now, but even he knew women didn’t like to share their weight, and he imagined a newly pregnant woman might be even more self-conscious. Dumb. She looked good enough to eat, and she’d felt warm and light in his arms.
“Room four.” Trista indicated the room with a sweeping flourish of her hand as if she were a game show model showing off a prize.
“You’re not coming in with me,” Tinsley said firmly, balking at the door.
He nudged her into the exam room. “Yes. I am. I’m worried.”
“But—” She bit the left side of her bottom lip once and then immediately stopped and smoothed out her features. “Really, I’m fine,” she said. “Anders is just overreacting,” she said to the nurse.
“Lots of first-time daddies do.” Trista smiled. “You’ll get used to it.”
Anders nearly laughed at Tinsley’s horrified expression.
He’d removed his hat the minute they’d entered the building, and now he nervously ran the brim through his fingers and looked at Tinsley as she perched on the edge of the exam table. The paper crinkled annoyingly, and she winced.
“I’ll get your blood pressure and temp, and then the doctor can come in and talk to you about your symptoms.”
“I don’t have any symptoms,” Tinsley said coolly.
“Two panic attacks, shallow breathing, clammy skin, very pale complexion, shaking and racing heart,” Anders said. “And she has a headache.”
