The Virgin Next Door (Stud Ranch 3)

“Thank you,” Calla said. “I don’t know how I can ever— Just, thank you.”

Calla felt like crying. And dancing. And whooping in elation at the top of her lungs. She hugged Dr. Nunez and thanked her again.

Then she ran the rest of the way back to Painter’s stall.

“What’s up with you?” she asked when Painter neighed anxiously after she stepped in the stall. She laughed and rubbed down her nose. “Today is our lucky day.”

She frowned as she said it. Because it wasn’t half an hour ago that both Mack and Liam had broken her heart.

But her son or daughter wouldn’t get Huntingtons. And she’d be able to raise them without ever having to worry about abandoning them by getting sick herself.

It meant everything.

“Come on, girl,” she said to Painter, opening the gate and leading her out. “Don’t want to be late to the party.”

As Calla led her around to where competitors had lined up by the chute that led into the arena, her mind raced. For the first time, she could really start planning her future. And even if it didn’t have either of the men of her dreams in it, she would make it a damn good one.

“You and me, little lime,” she whispered, patting her stomach. “You and me.”

34

MACK

Mack was this close to leaving them all behind without another look back. He shifted from park into first gear. But then he froze.

Pregnant. She was pregnant.

It could be yours.

No. Christ. How could he even feel a stab of hope or joy at the thought? He was so fucked up. He was born shit and any baby he made would be—

His mind rejected the thought before he could finish it.

The baby was half Calla. And something that came from her couldn’t be anything less than perfect.

He squeezed his eyes shut and as soon as he did, he saw Sammy’s bloody, broken body.

Christ. That had happened because of Mack. He needed to get as far away from Calla and Liam before Bone ever knew a thing about them.

Mack slammed the steering wheel. He heard the roar of the cheering crowd. There were speakers on the outside of the arena that broadcast everything happening inside.

And then Mack heard, “Next up, Cal Carter, representing Mel’s Horse Rescue with her mustang, Painter!”

He’d leave. He would. But after one last glimpse of her.

He slammed the door to his truck and ran into the arena. He had to push his way through a group of reporters bottlenecked at the entrance of the arena where a harried looking security guard was holding them back.

“Mackenzie. Mackenzie Knight?”

“It’s Mackenzie!”

Mack looked up sharply at all the eyes quickly turning his way. How the fuck did any of these people know his name?

“This picture of you and billionaire playboy Liam O’Neill was snapped last night.” One of the reporters held up a tablet showing some internet site with a clear picture of him, Calla, and Liam dancing. Close. Closer than close.

Shit.

“Tell us, is Liam cheating on Isobel Snow, last year’s Missing Heiress?”