“Okay,” she said reluctantly. “If you insist.”
Hutch grinned. “I do.”
While he was gone, she grabbed a small mirror out of her purse and examined her reflection. Other than having cheekbones that were too sharp, she didn’t look half bad. Pinching her cheeks added color to her face.
Hutch must have found the bed tray in the kitchen. When he returned with her modest meal, he had poured a serving of broth into a crockery bowl and added a glass of ice water, along with some soda crackers.
Simone scooted up in bed. “Barb is a good cook.”
“Her specialty is invalid food.”
She wrinkled her nose. “That’s a terrible way to describe it.”
“Sorry.”
The stilted conversation was awkward, to say the least. “You don’t have to watch me eat, Hutch. And you don’t need to spend the night. I’m much better. I appreciate all you’ve done.”
He shrugged, his expression impassive. “One more night won’t hurt. I’ll have the results of your blood work in the morning. If everything looks sound, you can follow up next week with Dr. Fetter at a regular appointment.”
“And you’ll ride off into the sunset to rescue another damsel in distress.”
His eyes narrowed. His jaw tightened. “Are you pissed that I went to Africa? Is that it, Simone? If you’ll recall, I offered to stay here until you got your agency off the ground. But you were pretty emphatic that I should go. So don’t blame me for the mess you’ve made of your life.”
She swallowed hard. Already, her stomach cramped with nerves and nausea, and she hadn’t even taken a bite yet. The old Hutch would never have been so blunt. There was a time he’d humored her every whim and thought her biting sarcasm was funny.
Not so much anymore.
She lifted her chin, striving for dignity. “You’re right. I apologize. Now if you don’t mind, I think I’ll have a better chance of getting this to go down successfully if I don’t have an audience. And to be clear, I don’t blame you for anything. You’re an easy target, and I’m at the end of my rope. But don’t worry, Hutch. I’ll be just fine.”
* * *
Hutch cursed softly, striding rapidly out of the room. How was it possible for one small woman to make him feel like a complete and utter failure? No one in his entire adult life had caused him as many sleepless nights as Simone Parker. Not even Bethany.
He prowled the house, pacing from room to room, feeling his bitterness and frustration grow. Though he finally managed to sleep for a few hours, at 3:00 a.m. he was up again. In the darkest moments of the night, he at last admitted to himself why he was so angry.
In some foolish, illogical corner of his brain, he had entertained the hope that he and Simone might mend fences. Despite his utter despair at losing Bethany, seeing Simone that first day in the exam room at the hospital had given him hope.
But the feeling was a lie. He was a bloody idiot. He and Simone were no more compatible than they had ever been. She had a chip on her shoulder so big it was a wonder it didn’t crush her. Surely she didn’t expect him to sit at her feet like a puppy dog begging for scraps. Those babies she carried weren’t his. She didn’t want to be married. Not to him, not to anyone. With this unconventional pregnancy, she was thumbing her nose at the world.
He might not understand why, but he knew it was true.
At last, sheer exhaustion trumped his fury. He went to Simone’s bedroom to check the IV, more for something to do than any real expectation that the bag was empty. Barb had changed it late that afternoon.
What he heard as he stood in the hallway put a knot in his chest.
Simone was crying...not just crying, but sobbing. Plucky, confident, decisive Simone sounded as if her heart was completely broken.
He backed away quietly, not wanting to embarrass her. Then he stopped. Not even the most coldhearted of bastards could leave her in that condition.
Though he suffered misgivings on a massive scale, he padded over to the bed in his sock feet and crouched beside her. She lay on her back with one arm flung over her eyes.
“Simone,” he whispered, not wanting to alarm her. “Stop crying, honey. It only makes things worse.”
Without waiting for permission, he unhooked the IV, scooped her up and sat down with her in his lap. Leaning against the headboard, he stroked her hair. “Talk to me, little mama. Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”
Though she huffed and protested and struggled briefly, he felt the moment she went limp in his embrace. She burrowed into his chest like a frightened child. Tears wet his shirt. The sobs were less ferocious, but the crying didn’t stop.
It worried him. Simone was not one to give up on any challenge. He’d never seen her like this. Gently, he held her close, telling himself the position was for her benefit. He didn’t even flinch at the lie. That’s how easy it was for his libido to seize the wheel.