The Virgin Next Door (Stud Ranch)

“Hi Daddy.”

He looked her direction, didn’t say anything, then moved his head back to face the screen.

“Whatcha watching?”

Calla looked toward the TV. “Wheel of Fortune, huh,” she finally answered for him after a long silence.

“Buy a vowel,” he growled at the screen.

Calla looked at the puzzle on the screen. “Daddy they’ve already got all the vowels up there.”

He continued ignoring her as one of the contestants solved the puzzle.

“Buy a vowel,” her dad repeated.

Calla’s stomach sank. What if the nurse’s actions hadn’t been extreme. Maybe he was at the point where he needed a feeding tube. He was declining more rapidly. Every time she visited, he was worse, and she came once a week. Was her dad still in there at all?

“New job’s working out real good,” she tried as the show went to commercial. “Xavier’s a fair boss and I’m training a mustang for the Extreme Horse Makeover. You know I always wanted to do that. I’m getting my shot at it this year. Got a great mare named Painter.”

Her dad didn’t say anything, just kept staring at the screen while a commercial for dishwasher soap played.

“But that’s not what I really wanted to talk about today.” She took a deep breath. “Daddy, I’m pregnant.”

She waited a beat.

And then another.

Still nothing from her father.

She gave him another moment. Sometimes it took him longer to process things than the average person.

But Wheel of Fortune came back from commercial and still he hadn’t said anything to her.

“But I don’t know what to do, Daddy,” she whispered, swallowing back against the tears that threatened. God, she didn’t even know whose baby it was. Her cheeks burned with shame. She’d gone bareback with Liam that time in the shower, but there’d been a couple times when Mack had pulled out early and from what she’d read online, it was rarer but still possible to get pregnant from pre-cum.

Doctors had told her for years she’d have difficulty getting pregnant if she ever tried because of her irregular cycles. For her to have ovulated at the perfect moment on any of those few specific incidents with the guys seemed so unlikely as to be, well… miraculous.

If only it wasn’t simultaneously the worst news Calla had ever gotten in her life.

“What if the baby has it?” Calla took a step toward her dad, swiping at her eyes as she went. “I got the blood taken for the test earlier today. It’ll take three weeks to find out if I test positive or not. But even if I’m negative, there’s still a twenty-five percent chance the baby could still have it.”

“Buy a vowel,” Dad said again, eyes glued to the TV.

“Daddy.” Calla swallowed hard against the tears. “Please. I don’t know what to do. The father isn’t planning to be in the picture.” The Horse Makeover Competition was only weeks away. Mack hadn’t said anything about his plans changing. He was leaving, and it was only a matter of time before Liam moved on too.

“If it turns out I’m positive, then maybe I should think about…” Calla balled her fists and looked to the floor. God, she hated even thinking it. But what kind of life could she really give a child if she was going to get sick in a few years? At least she and Dad had had the ranch, for as long as it lasted. But her child wouldn’t have anything. It would be cruel to bring them into the world knowing what was in store for—

“Did you hear me, Daddy?” she said louder. “I’m pregnant.”

Another commercial came on, and still he didn’t look her way.

“Dammit, Daddy, can you hear me?”

She moved to his bed and grabbed the remote from his nightstand. She pushed the power button so the TV snapped off behind her.

That definitely got his attention. He roared and reached for the remote, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. The sudden movement rolled him over in the bed. The only reason he didn’t fall off was because of the side rails.

“TV,” he screamed. “TV!”

Calla backed up, her thumb fumbling on the remote until she finally hit the button to turn the television back on.

“TV!”

“It’s on. I turned it back on!”

Her dad kept shouting, unintelligible words occasionally interspersed with TV. A nurse came through the door and Calla looked at her helplessly. “I’m sorry.”

“Howard,” the nurse said, reaching for her dad’s shaking shoulders. “Howard, look over here.” She physically directed him so that he faced the television. “That’s right. That’s right, Howard,” she soothed like he was a small child.

That was Calla’s breaking point.

Not just because she knew now she’d truly lost her Dad and there might never be time to make it right between them.

But because she saw herself in that bed. Fifteen, twenty years from now. Being held down by a nurse while she spewed demented ramblings. Having lost control of her own body.