West, ignoring her desperate vibes telling him to get lost, glanced in both directions, waited for a truck to pass, then crossed the road.

He extended his arms once he was within a few feet of her, giving her no escape from full-body contact. Soleil gave him an awkward hug, trying not to let him feel the hard little basketball that was her stomach.

She failed.

“Whoa,” he said when her belly bumped against him. He pulled back and looked down.

Up close, there was no way not to notice, with her short torso that left no extra room for a fetus to spread out and relax, that she was pregnant.

“Are you-”

His question hung half formed in the air as he seemed to realize simultaneously that “Are you pregnant?” was one of the dumbest questions anyone could ask a woman, and if she was, then the fact that they’d been lovers this past summer might make the news relevant for him.

This was not how she’d hoped he’d find out.

He seemed to gather his thoughts as he said again, “Are you pregnant?”

Soleil plastered on a smile. “Yes, I am! Isn’t it great?”

“Wow,” he said, looking bewildered. “Who…”

He went pale.

Okay, so maybe he hadn’t done the math after all. There was a much bigger discussion to be had between them, but it wasn’t one she wanted to have at the side of the road where her interns could interrupt. She had a schedule to keep, lunch to prepare. Lord, she was hungry.

“Actually,” she said, stalling for time. “The father isn’t in the picture.”

This was the line she’d been giving everyone who asked.

Only, it wasn’t true anymore. Not exactly.

Because he was in the picture again. He’d almost run over her goat.

And he deserved a better explanation than she’d just given him.

WEST MORGAN HAD BEEN so preoccupied on the drive back to Promise, he almost hadn’t seen the goat standing in the middle of the road. Thank God for antilock brakes.