Page 62 of Where the Wattles Bloom

‘I was going to propose that, too. Very sensible.’

If Lachlan had scored two sensibles from his grandmother at any other time, he’d have cracked a joke. But the reassurance of that one word—twice—was exactly what he needed right now.

‘She agreed. I’ll bring up her stuff in the morning.’

‘Excellent.’ Reggie nodded. ‘And I’ll spoil her rotten.’

Lachlan laughed. ‘I have no doubt.’

‘Does she know how far along she is? When she’s due?’

Lachlan shoved a hand through his hair. Well, crap … he hadn’t even thought to ask that. He’d been too worried about Rowena’s pallor and her despair over her absolute certainty the pregnancy would end in miscarriage.

‘I … don’t know.’

But there was no doubt about the date of conception, and if she’d been a ewe he’d just add one hundred and fifty days to that to know the expected lambing date.

‘She can’t think that far ahead,’ he clarified. ‘But she’s been in Acacia Junction for almost two months—’

He broke off as it dawned on him for the first time that she only had another four months on her contract. And then what? No wonder Reggie was asking …

‘So,’ he continued, shaking off all the implications of that particular thought, ‘I guess seven-ish weeks? I’m not sure how they calculate these things in humans.’

Reggie laughed as she sat on the seat next to him. ‘Well, I’m sure once Ro’s gotten over the shock, she’ll let you know. Doing some rough maths, though, should be early March, I reckon.’

March. He smiled. He could be a father in March.

His smile faded as he slammed on the mental brakes, not allowing the thought to progress any further. Rowena had been adamant the pregnancy would not survive and there’d been something compelling about her certainty. She’d done this before, many times by the sound of it, so it made sense to heed her warning.

Plus, she was out of here in four months, and he had no idea what that meant for him. Where he fit in the grand picture.

‘I don’t think we should … get too far ahead of ourselves.’

Lachlan said it gently, maybe as much for him as for her, but the last thing he wanted was Reggie knitting up a storm and getting the McCabe christening gown out of storage. He wasn’t superstitious, but he did believe in not tempting fate.

And he was pretty sure Rowena felt the same.

‘I know. I know.’ She patted his hand. ‘But you know what?’ She gave another pat. ‘I have a very good feeling about this baby.’

The statement buoyed him and he smiled at his grandmother. Reggie did have an uncanny sixth sense, and although it usually applied to the weather and lamb prices, it felt good to have her feelings in his corner.

Strangely enough, a tiny little kernel inside him felt it too. Something that was separate to his hope. It sat in that place in his gut that was rarely ever wrong.

But the baby getting to term was just one of their issues. How they were going to manage their situation after the baby was born was another he felt less confident about.

‘Do you love her, Lachy?’

Lachlan blinked at the unexpected question. ‘Reggie.’ He shook his head. ‘I’ve known her for two months and we’ve slept together once.’

Also, her contract was up at the end of November. Which made it … complicated as fuck.

Between that and the baggage of two divorces, it was fair to say that Lachlan was a little gun shy. And, yeah, maybe he had been experiencing some feelings for Rowena these past weeks, but he was leery enough at forty not to trust them.

She tutted him. ‘How long did it take you to fall for Brit? Or Gabby?’

The one thing about grandmothers always in your business was they could use what they knew about a person to their advantage. Reggie knew how quickly he’d fallen for Brit, and although he’d been more cautious with Gabby, he’d been in deep within a month—something Reggie also knew full well.

‘And look how those ended.’