Page 5

Honey smirks, fingers splayed over the swell of her stomach. “Bingo.”

I sit back as I release a slow breath. “Are you telling me as a courtesy, or is there something you need?” I can’t tell if I want her to tell me she wants me in her and our baby’s lives, or if the fear is winning out and I’m hoping she’s going to walk out that door.

Who am I kidding? I don’t want that at all.

“Well, I figured you ought to know,” she replies, rubbing circles across her stomach. “You know, right thing to do and all. Plus, it’s not something you keep from the dad. I watched how that can hurt someone, and she spent a lot of time looking for her baby daddy. I didn’t want to spend the next several months—or years—looking for you and missing out on life. But I also didn’t want to wonder for the rest of our lives what might be different if you were made aware. Hence, why I got your name in the first place.”

My heart stumbles to a halt in my chest. “Did you get pregnant on purpose?”

Honey’s lips pop open with a scowl. “Of course, I didn’t,” she hisses. “You wore a condom. Are you sure you didn’t knock me up on purpose?”

I grit my teeth, heart pounding again. The pit in my stomach doesn’t disappear, though, instead yawning wider and wider the longer I sit here. But there’s nothing I can do until I know what her plan is.

Normally, I take action. I make the plans; I see them through. I am the one who is reliable and I take my job seriously. It’s the only damn thing I do anymore. I work, I stay competent, and I see things through.

“Of course, not,” I mutter, loosening my grip on the chair’s armrests. “It was an accident?”

Honey rolls her eyes. “Yes, of course it was,” she replies. “No offence, the last thing I really wanted was to get pregnant by a complete stranger.”

“Then why go through with it? Unless…” Unless she’s here to tell me she’s giving our baby up for adoption.

My immediate thought is no. But I’m not in any position to raise a kid alone, which I realise, she might not be either. I wouldn’t be allowed to have a child here on the farm, so I’d have to take the plunge and finally move into the bungalow. Money isn’t an issue; all I do is work and save. I don’t spend lightly. Getting a nanny or daycare is⁠—

What the fuck am I thinking?

I shake my head, scrubbing a hand down my face. “Now what?” I ask, voice low. “Where do we go from here?”

Honey shrugs when I glance at her. “Honestly, I hadn’t thought much beyond telling you. I guess I get back in my truck and drive to Colorado where I…” She trails off and sits back, rubbing a tired circle across her stomach. “I go home and I do this alone. Which is okay, I’m prepared. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” I hate the sound of that. I hate how she resigns herself to doing it alone. “No.”

Honey quirks a brow. “No?”

“Need me to say it again?” I ask, leaning forward. “No.”

“Oh, I heard you the first time, Max. I was just wondering how you could have so much audacity.”

I scowl, though the twitch of her lips and the brightening of her eyes betray her amusement. It makes my heart skip. “You’re pregnant with my child. You aren’t doing this alone.”

“That’s not very reassuring, sorry,” she groans, pushing out of the chair. “God, these things are not fat-friendly.”

“You aren’t⁠—”

She shoots me a deadly look. “If the next words out of your mouth are you’re not fat, you’re beautiful, I’ll yank this baby out myself Mary-style and hand it right over to you.”

My scowl deepens. “I was going to say you’re pregnant.”

“Eh, same thing to you. Men.” She rolls her eyes. “Pregnant and beautiful are synonyms to some of you. But then there are the ones who get, like, over-the-top protective. And to some, that’s ultra hot. Having a man get all possessive and all that. Not to me.”

I frown as I watch her pick up her purse, already rising from my chair before she can take a step. “Honey⁠—”

“Winnie,” she says. “Winifred, but everyone calls me Winnie.”

“Then Honey is even more appropriate, huh?” I don’t even know why I make that connection; I haven’t encountered that honey obsessed bear since I was a kid. Unless you count being assaulted with it whenever I go shopping and there’s some sort of tea-inspired thing for it.

Honey—Winnie—rolls her eyes. “Cute. Like I haven’t heard that one a thousand times before.” She starts for the door, and I rush to catch up with her.

If I had half a brain, I would let her go. But I can’t help the sinking feeling if she walks out, this might be it, and I will never see her again. I’ll never hold her again, never feel her touch, never know what it feels like to finally claim her like I’ve been wanting to since we met all those months ago.