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The Bachelor's Baby
The Bachelor's Baby

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The Bachelor's Baby

Язык: Английский
Год издания: 2019
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Forging a Family

Single mom-to-be Lindsay Holland is hoping for a fresh start in her sleepy New England hometown. First on her agenda is finding a way to support herself and her precious baby. But the only job opening is as an office manager for her high-school sweetheart—the man she once ran from. She knows Brian Calhoun needs help resurrecting his family’s blacksmith shop, but can she get him to take a chance on her? Organizing a Valentine’s Day fund-raiser together makes Lindsay realize just how much she wants a second chance with the handsome craftsman. As sparks fly, can they transform their rekindled friendship into a new, loving family?

MIA ROSS loves great stories. She enjoys reading about fascinating people, long-ago times and exotic places. But only for a little while, because her reality is pretty sweet. Married to her college sweetheart, she’s the proud mom of two amazing kids, whose schedules keep her hopping. Busy as she is, she can’t imagine trading her life for anyone else’s—and she has a pretty good imagination. You can visit her online at miaross.com.

Also By Mia Ross

Liberty Creek

Mending the Widow’s Heart

The Bachelor’s Baby

Oaks Crossing

Her Small-Town Cowboy

Rescued by the Farmer

Hometown Holiday Reunion

Falling for the Single Mom

Barrett’s Mill

Blue Ridge Reunion

Sugar Plum Season

Finding His Way Home

Loving the Country Boy

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

The Bachelor’s Baby

Mia Ross


www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08033-0

THE BACHELOR’S BABY

© 2018 Andrea Chermak

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

“Can I make a suggestion?”

“You’re the boss.”

“I mean, just as me. Not your boss.”

“Oh.” Resting her hands in her lap, Lindsay gave him a curious look. “Go ahead.”

“How ’bout if we both agree to let the past be in the past, and go on from here? That way you can stop apologizing for what happened years ago.”

“Does that mean you forgive me?”

Until recently, Brian never would’ve thought that kind of thing was possible. But now, sitting here with the woman who’d single-handedly helped him save his fledgling business, he couldn’t imagine anything else. Smiling, he said, “Yes, Lindsay, I forgive you.”

She beamed at him. “If I could get out of this chair gracefully, I’d hug you.”

“No problem. I’ll settle for that smile.”

“Really?”

“Sure. I always loved seeing you happy.”

He hadn’t intended to say that out loud, but when those incredible blue eyes brightened with joy, he decided maybe it hadn’t been such a bad idea, after all.

Dear Reader,

I hope you enjoyed your visit to snowy Liberty Creek!

I was watching one of my favorite home improvement shows one day, and there was a guest star who ran a custom metalworking shop. He made that cold, impersonal medium into beautiful works of art, and an idea started forming in my head. I remembered going to a local living history museum and a Renaissance festival and being fascinated by the blacksmiths and how the tools of their trade hadn’t changed much in the three hundred years separating their eras. From there, Brian Calhoun’s vintage forge and the challenges it would face operating in this century came to life for me, and the research was some of the most interesting I’ve ever done.

But as good a metalsmith as he was, he needed some help. Lindsay Holland walked onto the stage of this charming little town, and I liked her right away. Sassy, smart and independent, she’s the kind of woman I admire: one who takes the curveballs life gives her and turns them into home runs. Despite the odds stacked against her, she was able to move past her failures and do what was necessary to build a better future. The world can be a tough place to navigate, and it takes serious determination—and faith—to be successful. Lindsay had the first trait all along, and once she discovered the second, she found the strength to make a good life for herself and her daughter.

If you’d like to stop in and see what I’ve been up to, you’ll find me online at miaross.com, Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads. While you’re there, send me a message in your favorite format. I’d love to hear from you!

Mia Ross

Love one another.

—John 13:34

For the talented artisans and craftspeople

working to keep our history alive.

Acknowledgments

To Melissa Endlich and the dedicated staff at

Love Inspired. These very talented folks help me

make my books everything they can be.

More thanks to the gang at Seekerville,

a great place to hang out online with readers—and writers.

I’ve been blessed with a wonderful network

of supportive, encouraging family and friends.

You inspire me every day!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Dear Reader

Bible Verse

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

Extract

Chapter One

Liberty Creek was the last place on earth she wanted to be.

Lindsay Holland reluctantly dragged her feet up Main Street of the backwater New Hampshire village she’d escaped from five years ago, berating herself for allowing her life to slide so far out of control. As her mind took an unpleasant spiral down memory lane, she resolutely jerked her thoughts out of the past to focus on her immediate—and precarious—present. A long line of bad decisions had landed her here, she reminded herself sternly. Now she was completely out of options, and the only thing she could do was find a job so she could begin digging herself out of the black hole that had engulfed her and swallowed up what had once seemed to her like a promising future.

It was a frigid January morning, and a Monday to boot, neither of which did much to lift her mood. Pausing outside the only place in town that was currently hiring, she couldn’t help smiling at the hand-lettered slab of cardboard hanging in the grimy window of Liberty Creek Forge.

“Office Help Wanted” it had said at one point. Apparently, things were getting more urgent, because someone had crossed out “Wanted” and in bold black marker had written “Desperately Needed.”

Constructed in the 1820s by the founders of the town, the building and run-down cottage beside it didn’t look as if they were capable of housing anything other than a lot of spiders and archaic ironworking equipment. But the ad that had been tacked to the bulletin board inside the post office was dated only two days ago, so she’d decided to take a chance on it. How bad could it be? she mused as she knocked on the door. Worst case, they’d tell her she wasn’t right for the job. She’d heard that so often recently, she’d become immune to the sting of being rejected. Almost.

But this time, she couldn’t let that happen, she reminded herself. She had to make this work because this was the end of the line for her, and as hard as she’d tried, she hadn’t been able to devise a plan B. So Lindsay squared her shoulders and did her best to think positive. It had been so long since anything good had happened to her, she’d almost forgotten what confidence felt like. How depressing.

When no one answered her knock, she inched the door open and realized that whoever was inside couldn’t hear anything over the loud rock music and clanging of steel. She’d been on field trips to the old metal shop during middle school, and as she stepped inside and set down her single duffel bag, it struck her that the lobby probably hadn’t changed a bit in the twenty-six years she’d been alive.

Neat but unapologetically functional, the bare-bones area held four mismatched folding chairs and a battered table that looked as if it could have been left behind by the original owners of the business. The stainless steel coffee maker on top of it looked decidedly out of place, and the collection of teas and coffees alongside it was an encouraging sign. Despite the rustic environment, it was clear that someone thought enough of their staff to provide them with some creature comforts.

A set of wide sliding doors stood at the rear of the entryway, and even though they were closed, she could hear the muffled hard-driving bass from a rock classic. Funny, she thought as she edged one of the doors open, it had been one of her favorite songs since high school. Unfortunately, that brought up more unpleasant memories, and she batted them aside as she strode into the production area of the metalworks.

As tidy as the front was, this section of the building was a step short of a disaster. A tall man wearing a protective mask and leather apron was welding one old piece of equipment to another, possibly even older, machine. Really, he should just call a scrap metal firm to haul everything out so he could start over. Then again, this was her prospective new boss, and in her situation she couldn’t afford to be picky.

Before she could lose her nerve, Lindsay crossed the dusty floor and waited for an opportune moment to tap him on the shoulder. Clearly startled, he whipped around so fast, she had to dodge the glowing torch in his gloved hand.

“Oh, man,” he muttered as he turned away and doused the flame. “I’m sorry.”

He’d scared her half to death, but she forced a bright tone to avoid coming across like a baby. “No harm done. I’m pretty light on my feet.”

For some reason, he kept his back to her and very carefully peeled off the gloves, setting them beside the torch before turning to her. And then, as if in slow motion, he swiveled the welder’s mask back to reveal the very last person she’d expected to see today.

“Brian Calhoun?”

Framed by a riot of brown hair, his deep blue eyes narrowed in the expression she recalled only too well. Those chiseled features hadn’t changed at all over the years, and his jaw clenched a bit before he nodded. “Lindsay.”

“What are you doing here?” she demanded in a near panic, any thought of making a good first impression gone. There was no point in dancing around the issue. After what she’d done to him, she suspected that Brian wouldn’t hire her if she was the only unemployed office manager left in the universe.

“I own this place,” he informed her coolly. “What’re you doing here?”

“Looking for a job,” she blurted before reason kicked in to remind her that there wasn’t much sense in pursuing this any further. Then again, it had been a long time since she’d left. It was possible that he’d forgiven her. “I was surprised to see your ad at the post office. My understanding was that it was more your grandfather’s hobby shop than anything.”

“It was. He had a heart attack four years ago and wasn’t able to keep the place up the way he always did, so he closed it down. He died not long after that.”

“I’m so sorry... I know how close you two were. You must really miss him.”

“This was where he taught me about metalworking, so I decided to try running it as an actual business again. Kind of as a tribute to Granddad.”

Having moved from pillar to post throughout her childhood, Lindsay couldn’t relate to feeling that kind of connection to anywhere in particular. She’d never considered it a problem, but she’d been kicked around more than she would have liked, and now she envied him of those deep, stabilizing roots. Realizing she should say something, she searched for a response that wouldn’t betray how dire her own circumstances were. “That’s nice.”

He didn’t say anything to that, just stared at her with the penetrating gaze that had once fallen on her with such warmth, she’d almost believed that she deserved his affection. Now there was no sign of anything in it other than icy contempt, and after what she’d done, she couldn’t blame him.

Just when she was about to concede defeat, the wording on his sign came to mind. She was pretty desperate herself, and while this situation was far from ideal, it was the only one available to her. So, hoping to appeal to the innate sense of chivalry that ran in the Calhoun boys’ blood, she took a deep breath and summoned what was left of her dignity. “I need a job, and you need someone to handle the administrative end of the business. I worked as an office manager at a small law firm for two years. I’m very organized and will do whatever needs to be done out front so you can focus on production for your customers. I think we can help each other.”

“Do you?” Cocking his head, he assessed her with a skeptical look. After a few long, uncomfortable moments, he asked, “How’s Jeff?”

“Gone.” She sighed, her fleeting bout of moxie evaporating like mist. “You were right about him.”

Brian absorbed that, shaking his head in silent disapproval. Then, to her utter astonishment, he announced, “I always thought he was a snake. You’re better off without him.”

Bolstered by his reaction, she felt a flicker of hope that this awkward reunion might not end up being a complete disaster. “Thank you for saying that. I know I don’t deserve it.”

That got her a short, derisive laugh. “Because you dumped me for a sweet-talking loser who promised to take you to— Where was it?”

“Nevada. For the record, we never made it past Ohio.”

“I’m not surprised.”

Of course not, Lindsay thought morosely. No one was, except for her. Sadly, that had been only the first of many disappointments she’d had to contend with since breaking free of the confines of this Currier and Ives town to explore the world beyond New Hampshire. Her adventures had left her beyond penniless and anxious to find a safe haven that would allow her to gain her bearings and figure out what came next in a life that up until now had been dominated by wanderlust and chaos.

Working for Brian would be difficult, at best, but she really didn’t see an alternative. “Past atrocious judgment aside, I’m an excellent worker and will do things however you want them done.” Gulping down her anxiety, she added, “I really need this job, Brian. I promise, if you give me a chance, I’ll be very professional and you won’t have a bit of trouble with me.”

He pinned her under an unforgiving scowl. “You let me down once. Why should I trust you again?”

“Because that was a long time ago, and I’m a different person now.” He had no idea just how different, she added silently.

Another long pause. Conflicting emotions chased each other like thunderclouds through his eyes, and he seemed to be having some kind of internal debate about her. She wanted to squirm while he thought it over, but managed to stand her ground, holding his gaze with an unflinching one of her own. If he wanted to boot her out the door, fine. But she wasn’t going to turn tail and slink away like a scolded hound. There was too much at stake for her to be timid now.

“I’m ready for a break,” he finally said. “Let’s go talk in the office.”

It wasn’t exactly the “you’re hired” she’d been wishing for, but he hadn’t thrown her out into the snow, either. Feeling more optimistic than she had in months, Lindsay tried not to get her hopes up as she followed him back through the shop and into the small office. The plate glass that used to separate it from the work area was gone, and in its place was a banged-up piece of plywood that had seen better days. Brian started up a space heater in the corner, and once he closed the door, the interior warmed up quickly.

“I’m parched,” he said as he opened a countertop fridge and took out a bottle of iced tea. “I’ve got water, too. Would you like some?”

Considering his earlier comments, his offer of something to drink was a huge step in the right direction, and she nodded. “Thank you.”

After handing her the bottle, he twisted the top off his and took a long swallow. She sipped hers and held it against her cheek, enjoying the coolness against her skin.

“It’s pretty warm in here,” he said, holding out his hand. “Can I take your coat?”

“No, thanks. I’m fine.”

Her stoic comment earned her a chuckle. “Your face is getting redder by the second. If you’re worried about it getting wrinkled, I can probably scare up a hanger for it.”

“That’s not necessary.” Hearing the stiffness in her voice, she tried in vain to come up with a way to explain her odd behavior. Then, figuring that showing him was better than telling him, she set her water bottle down on the desk and took off her coat.

If she lived to be a hundred years old, she knew she’d never forget the look on his face.

* * *

“You’re pregnant.”

His surprise visitor shook long dark curls back over the shoulders of a maternity top that was better suited for fall than the middle of winter. Meeting his gaze with a directness that was a little unsettling, Lindsay gave him a pitying look. As they stared at each other, that all-too-familiar smirk crinkled the corner of her mouth. “Observant as ever, aren’t you?”

Brian had no clue what else he could possibly say. While his brain was struggling to wrap itself around her stunning revelation, his hackles began to rise, and he fought to keep his voice down. “Is Jeff the baby’s father?”

“Of course he is,” she snapped, flinging her coat onto the cluttered desk in a fit of the flash-fire temper that had apparently not mellowed much over the years. After blowing out an exasperated breath, she faced him squarely, the spirit that had always captivated him glittering in those incredible sky blue eyes. “I was with him for almost six years. Only him,” she added crisply.

Brian had a few choice words to say about the length of their noncommittal relationship, but he kept them to himself. At twenty-seven, he was a contented bachelor and far from being an expert on pregnancy. But he knew enough to be aware that upsetting her wouldn’t be good for Lindsay or the innocent child she was carrying. Whatever had gone on since she broke his heart and left him behind, it apparently hadn’t ended well. Piling on the guilt would only make her feel worse, and while the bitterness he felt toward his ex was still alive and well, browbeating her over mistakes she’d made in the past would be cruel.

“All right, I’m sorry.” Motioning to the desk chair, he said, “Have a seat and let’s start this conversation over again.”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously and she nailed him with a mistrustful glare. “You’ll be nice?”

“Sure,” he replied, doing his best to appear as if it didn’t bother him that the troubled girl he’d once loved more than anything had unexpectedly dropped back into his life pregnant with another man’s child.

“Promise?”

Some of the defiance left her expression, and he heard the slightest tremble in her soft voice. It made her sound vulnerable, like a frightened little girl who was searching for someone who would reassure her that everything was going to be okay. “Yeah, I promise.”

In his memory, Brian flashed back to his junior year in high school, when Lindsay Holland had been the pretty new sophomore every guy wanted to date. One afternoon, he’d run across her sitting in the stands after a football game, crushed by the self-centered quarterback who’d just dumped her for a cheerleader. After comforting Lindsay, Brian had tracked down the arrogant jerk and made sure that he never forgot what breaking her trusting heart had cost him.

And now, they were together again, in more or less the same set of circumstances. Plus a baby, of course. The irony of the bizarre circle they’d made didn’t escape Brian, and those old protective instincts kicked in, making him wonder where he might find Jeff Mortensen these days. “I never liked the guy, but I can’t believe he’d leave you and his own child to fend for yourselves that way.”

“He doesn’t know about the baby. I found out I was pregnant shortly after he took off.”

“Is that right?”

“I know that look, so don’t even think about it,” Lindsay warned, as if she’d read his mind somehow. “I don’t want you getting into it with Jeff. We’re not teenagers anymore, and you don’t have to defend my honor. I got myself into this mess, and I’ll come up with a way to get out of it. Eventually,” she added glumly.

How she knew what he’d been thinking was beyond him, but Brian chalked it up to their shared history and the fact that he wasn’t really all that complicated. So he shrugged it off and waited for her to get comfortable. Or as comfortable as a pregnant woman could in a straight-back wooden armchair. Once she was facing him, he started again.

Deciding humor was the best approach, he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall beside the beat-up table he used as a desk. “So, Lindsay, how’ve you been?”

Amusement twinkled in her eyes, and at last she smiled. “Good. And you?”

“Questioning my sanity ever since I came up with the idea of rehabbing this place and getting into the iron decor business.”

“How’s it going?”

“Nowhere,” he admitted grimly. “I’ve got a few contracts, but the problem with specialty work is that once you’ve filled an order, there’s no more coming in behind it. My cousin Jordan’s planning to come help out once his summer season is over, which will make a huge difference in the range of products I can offer. The problem is, I’m nowhere near the artist he is, so I have to figure out how to keep from going bankrupt before then.”

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