The Bachelor's Little Bonus (Proposals & Promises 3)

* * *

Two weeks before her due date, Stevie stood in the center of the sage-and-cream nursery, looking around in satisfaction. Everything was in place and waiting to welcome the baby, whose name was still to be determined. She had to admit she was the holdup in that respect. Cole had made several suggestions and had liked several of her recommendations, but she simply couldn’t make up her mind on this momentous decision. She smiled a little as she remembered how tactfully he’d vetoed a few of her more fanciful brainstorms.

“I’m not saying the kid would get beat up on the playground if you give him that name,” he’d said about one of them, “but maybe we’d better start martial arts training early.”

Laughing, she’d agreed with him that maybe it wasn’t the best choice for an Arkansas boy, and had gone back to her research.

She rubbed her temple against another dull headache as she absently repositioned a striped-shade ceramic lamp on the antique nightstand she’d found in a dusty resale shop. The turtle night-light sat beside the lamp, smiling blandly up at her. The pretty little bassinet from Branson was displayed in the center of the room. Next to the new crib sat an overstuffed nursing chair and ottoman—a joint gift from Tess, Jenny and their spouses. It still brought a lump to her throat to admire it, and she knew she would think of her dear friends every time she rocked her baby there.

Straightening the soft hand-knit throw draped over the back of the chair, she thought about resting there for a few minutes now. Her head was really starting to hurt and her back ached. Maybe she needed a nap. Though it was a Saturday, she’d tried to work a little that morning upstairs in her office, and maybe she’d simply sat too long in an uncomfortable position. Not that there was any truly comfortable position these days.

“Stevie?” Cole strolled into the room with a package in his hands. He’d been outside on this hot, late July Saturday and his face was still a little flushed from the humid heat, his hair rumpled the way she liked it best.

Already in a sentimental mood, she felt her heart swell even more at the sight of him. She loved him so much. Lately she’d been thinking she should just tell him how she felt. She’d almost done so a time or two, but something had always held her back. Perhaps the fear of making him uncomfortable, of creating awkwardness between them as the baby’s arrival grew ever closer. Maybe even the nagging fear that he would smile indulgently and pat her arm as if writing off her feelings to those annoying pregnancy hormones. It wasn’t like her to be shy with her feelings, but in her current vulnerable state, she thought it might break her heart if he didn’t believe her.

Unaware of her inner conflict, he said absently, “Looks like maybe another baby gift. The return address on this package says it’s from a P. Rose.”

“Pepper Rose,” she said with a quick smile of delight. “The client I told you about.”

“Oh, yeah. You did her kitchen a while ago, right? Big job up on River Ridge?”

“Yes, that’s the one. She’s such a sweetheart. It was nice of her to—Oh, God.”

The pain ripped through her skull like a nail driven into her temple. She put both hands to her head, squeezing her eyes shut against a flash of light, fighting down a wave of nausea.

She heard a soft thud as the package hit the carpeted floor, and then Cole was beside her, his hands on her upper arms. “Stevie? What’s wrong?”

“My head,” she gasped just before her knees buckled.

He caught her—as she knew he always would.

The pain was overwhelming. “Cole?”

He gathered her close. “I’m here.”

“Don’t leave me.”

“Never. Let’s get you to the hospital.”

* * *

Time passed in a haze of pain and fear. Stevie was rushed straight into an emergency exam room, her clothes stripped away, IVs and monitors quickly attached to her. She clung tightly to Cole’s hand when he was allowed near her.

“I’m here, Stevie.” His voice was hardly recognizable.

She gazed up at him through pain-clouded eyes. For the first time since she’d met him, she saw Cole’s face raw with emotions—fear, compassion, helplessness. She thought his hand trembled around hers, though it was hard to distinguish her own unsteadiness from his.

“Tell the doctor...” She recoiled against another wave of pain, then forced out the words. “Tell them to save the baby.”

“Stevie...”

“Mr. McKellar? You need to step out now,” a nurse said, her voice kind but firm. “You can sit in the waiting room. We’ll keep you updated.”

His hand tightened on Stevie’s as if he wanted nothing more than to refuse to leave her, but he nodded grimly and leaned over to press a gentle kiss on her lips. “You remember the bet we made at the mini golf course on our honeymoon?”

She forced an answer through another wave of pain. “I—I remember.”

“I never collected on that bet,” he reminded her, his tone intensely serious. “I’m naming the prize now. I want a Valentine dance with you at our golden wedding anniversary celebration. You got that, Stevie? You have to pay up, you promised.”