Leather Pants

  The most fun I’ve had this past decade was in a bathroom. “I think I’m going to travel for a few days, until the baby comes.” And before her pretrial began in four weeks.

  Yep. That was right. She was out on bail. Sarah Rae Alma. Inconceivable, yet true. When she’d finally called her mother to give her an update, it took a whole ten minutes to convince her it wasn’t a joke.

  “I’m in real trouble, Mom. They have a very strong case. I do not.”

  “Don’t be so negative,” her mother had said, attempting to be supportive. “You love the law and serving justice. Have faith that it will serve you.”

  “Like it served Dad?” Sarah had asked, which made her poor mother cry.

  “It will be different for you, honey. You’re smarter than he was. And you weren’t getting yourself mixed up with the wrong people.” Guilt by association had been her father’s downfall. Some other guy had been embezzling and made it look like it was Sarah’s father. She knew this because she’d seen all the evidence. She’d read every transcript. Sadly, he’d died before Sarah could help him.

  Sarah had ended the call with her mother, feeling lower than a toad’s belly button. But at least she’d convinced her mom to stay put. The last thing Sarah needed was to make her mother watch a repeat of history.

  God, I hope I win. She shoved the last of the cloth napkins into a box on the counter and taped it down the seam.

  “Well, you know you always have a home here with us, Sarah. We love you and always will. Even if you forced poor Colt Young to be your hump-hostage.”

  “Maria!”

  Maria chuckled with a sniffle. “Sorry. I still get a laugh from all of the stuff in the tabloids. Did you know, for example, that you have mind-control powers? And you have the bodies of disobedient men hidden under your bench?”

  “Gross. Are they really saying that?” What was wrong with these people?

  “Can’t make this shit up.” Maria stacked her box on top of a wall of boxes. The movers would be there in the morning to take everything to storage. For a year. Or ten, depending on the sentence.

  Sarah took a look around at the empty apartment. I’m going to miss living here.

  “Thank you for letting me be a part of your family.” Sarah walked over and gave Maria a big hug. “I better get going.”

  “So soon?”

  “Bennett’s in New York and Taylor has her doctor’s appointment. I’m supposed to meet her there in twenty minutes.” Taylor planned to deliver at Jack’s hospital in San Francisco versus somewhere slightly closer to home—Jack insisted he’d make sure she received the best care.

  Maria said, “Tell her to start getting pedicures with foot rubs when she’s ready. That will pop the baby right out.”

  Sarah’s phone buzzed in her pocket. It was Taylor.

  “Hello?”

  “Sarah! I’m having contractions.”

  “Ohmygod. But you’re not due for another week.”

  “I know,” Taylor groaned.

  “Okay. I’m coming to get you.”

  “No. I’m in my car. Almost to the—gaaah!—hospital.”

  “What! You pull over right now. I’ll come get you.”

  “Nope. Almost there. One blllock. Meet meeee.” The call ended.

  Sarah looked at Maria. “Christ. Taylor’s in labor. What do I do?”

  “If I remember correctly, the pregnant person does all the work.”

  “No. I meant Bennett’s out of town.”

  “And?”

  “I’m supposed to be her backup coach. And on the squeamish scale of one to ten, ten being the highest, I’m a twelve. Hundred.”

  Maria gave Sarah a pat on the shoulder. “Just breathe deep and be thankful you’re not the one pushing a tank through a storm drain.”

  Sarah winced. “Lovely. I’ll try to remember that.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  By the time Sarah arrived to the hospital, Taylor was already coming out of the exam room, talking to her doctor—a tall blonde woman who looked more like a model than an ob-gyn.

  “Tay!” Sarah was out of breath, having run from the parking garage that was so far away it was practically on the other side of the city.

  Taylor gave a little wave, rubbing her belly. “Sorry. False alarm.”

  “Well,” said Tay’s doctor, “not entirely. You are a few centimeters dilated, which is perfectly normal at this stage, but until your water breaks or your contractions are three to four minutes apart, you can relax at home.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” said Tay. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am. My husband is traveling, and he can’t miss this.”

  “Hello there, ladies.” Jack appeared from around the corner. “I came to check on you.” He pecked Taylor’s cheek and Sarah watched the ob-gyn drool over him.

  Man, that guy really needs to get back in the game. He had every straight woman and gay man in the hospital pining for him.

  “I’m fine,” Taylor said. “Still got another few days to go at least.”

  “Let Sarah drive you,” said Jack. “Just to be safe. I’ll bring your car home tonight.”

  “You’re such a good brother,” the ob-gyn swooned.

  “I am, aren’t I?” Jack gave the woman a wink, completely oblivious to her drooling.

  Taylor dug her keys from her purse. “Nope. I’m driving myself home. I’m totally fine.”

  Everyone groaned. This was so typical of Taylor. Always had to be the independent one.

  Of course, that was why she and Sarah got along so well. Two peas.

  “Taylor,” Sarah said, “I don’t mind at all and—”

  “Nope. I’ll call you later, honey,” Taylor said. “I still have a ton of things to do, including getting your room ready.”

  “Stubborn mule.” Sarah shook her head.

  “Worrywart.” Taylor scurried off before anyone could stop her. The doctor gave Jack one final longing glance before heading to see her next pregnant victim.

  “Your sister is nuts. You know that, right?” Sarah said to Jack.

  “It’s all of the baby hormones flowing through her thick head. Makes her think she’s invincible.”

  Sarah laughed.

  “How are you holding up?” Jack asked.

  “I’ve been better, but I’m trying to focus on the positive—things like I’m not bleeding on my living room floor and I get to have a vacation before I lose my freedom. Oh—and Tay’s baby will be ten years old by the time I get out. So I will get out of a lot of babysitting and diaper changing.”

  Jack shook his head. “You’re a shining example of positivity, Sarah. How do you do it?”

  She shrugged. “It’s a gift.”

  “Well,” Jack held out his arms for a hug, “I’m needed in surgery. Car accident. Crushed nose and fractured cheekbone.” He looked positively giddy.

  “How incredibly exciting.” Sarah gave him a big hug and could’ve sworn she heard the sound of a few women growling as she did it.

  Great. More psycho groupies. She pulled back. “See you later, Dr. Reed. You’re a horrible hugger!” she said loudly, so any nurses within earshot would know not to shoot her. “And we’re not dating.”

  “Uh…thanks?” Jack gave his head a little shake and wandered off, thoroughly perplexed.

  Sarah headed for the elevator bank, thinking about her laundry list of to-dos to prepare for her move—disconnecting services, forwarding mail—and getting her affairs in order in case things didn’t go her way at the trial. God, it’s good to be so busy. Keeps me from thinking about—

  The elevator doors slid open, and she stepped in, immediately recognizing the person inside. “Colt?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Colt wore a pair of faded blue jeans that hugged every muscle of his long manly legs and a plain black sweater—one of those thin soft ones that sort of caressed a man’s pectorals and biceps versus hiding them beneath bulky yarn. He also wore a baseball cap and glasses. As if that would ke
ep people from recognizing the gorgeous man.

  For a moment, Sarah hesitated to get in the elevator with him. She knew he didn’t want to see her ever again. And she was too proud to beg anyone for anything, including forgiveness. Especially when she’d done nothing wrong. Not really. Okay, her heart had been in the right place, so practically the same goddamned thing.

  Screw him. I’m not taking another elevator. Besides, she was a grown woman. She could remain civil.

  Sarah stepped inside, and Colt continued looking forward, his hazel eyes hidden behind his mirrored glasses.

  “So, no cowboy or nerd outfit today, huh?” she said as the doors slid closed.

  Colt didn’t respond.

  Wow. What a jerk. “Okaaaay. Real mature, Colt.” She faced forward, hiding her indignation. “Nice to know you’re healing from your gunshot wound, too. And yes, I’m probably going to go to jail because of your psycho stalker.” Mary was the one who had taken the video—evidence—and exposed the fact they knew each other by shooting the man in her apartment.

  “I’m sorry. But do we know each other?” Colt finally said.

  Sarah turned her head, blinking. “Seriously, Colt? Nice try.”

  He frowned, but didn’t speak. It was the same look he’d given her when he’d appeared in her courtroom the third time for sentencing. He’d stared with this strange look—stern, confused, suspicious.

  He actually forgot me…

  Sarah hid the emotional sting as best as she could. This was hard. Really, really hard being forgotten like that. “Well, I guess it’s for the best. We were never going to work out anyway.”

  The doors slid open, and she stepped out into the lobby, feeling like a heavy boulder was rolling around in her stomach.

  Her phone rang in her pocket. She slid it out and saw Taylor’s name. “Change your mind about that ride?” she said, exiting the building and heading for the garage.

  “Sarah! Fuck! Fuck! I need help!” Taylor screamed through the phone.

  Sarah’s stomach dipped and rolled. “Taylor! What’s wrong?”

  “I’m having the babyyy…”

  “But it was a false alarm—you just told me that!” Sarah argued.

  “I fucking know that, you cunt! Get your ass over here!”

  Cunt? Wow. In their twenty-plus years of friendship, Taylor had never used the c-word. This was not good.

  “Okay. Okay. Don’t panic. Where are you?” Sarah asked, trying to stay calm.

  “In the parking garage. In my car. Ohmygod. Ohmygod. Hurry. There’s blood and my water broke and—aaaahhhh, fuck me! It hurts!”

  Jesus. Was she giving birth to a tiny Satan? “What level are you parked on?”

  “The tenth! The goddamned elevator’s out! I think that’s what…shiiiit! Fucking shit! Hurry!”

  “Okay. Don’t move!”

  “Where the motherfucking hell am I gonna go?” Taylor screamed. “And call my bastard of a husband and tell him I hate his guts! I will murder him in his sleep if he ever gets his sperm anywhere near me again. Do you understand?”

  Okeydokey. Taylor had officially gone mad. “Be right there.” I think. The option of running away did have its appeal.

  “Do you need help?” Colt stood there, looking concerned. He’d removed his glasses and apparently lost his prickish attitude along the way, too. Had he been faking it in the elevator?

  There was no time to figure all that out.

  “Um, um…yeah, actually,” she replied. “Can you go inside and tell the people at the front desk that Dr. Jack Reed’s sister is giving birth in the garage on the tenth floor?”

  Colt stared blankly for a moment. He then slid his notebook from his back pocket. “Can you repeat all that? I have an issue remembering things sometimes.”

  “Of course you do. Never mind. I’ll call them en route.” She turned and started running the gazillion miles to reach the stupid parking lot. Idiots! Whose idea was it to put it so far away? She understood that real estate was at a premium here in San Francisco, but this was ridiculous. There was a small parking lot out front for emergencies and staff, but everyone else had to be an Olympic walker.

  “Sarah! Wait up,” Colt called out.

  Asshole! He did remember her. Sarah looked over her shoulder, sprinting as fast as possible. “Nice acting, Colt. Real nice!”

  “What did you expect?” He gave her a nasty look.

  Whatever, she didn’t have time for this. She glanced at Colt, who was running. “What are you doing?”

  “Helping.”

  “I don’t need your help.” Pant. Pant. Pant. “You can’t deliver babies.”

  “I’ve delivered hundreds,” he said, running alongside her. “They weren’t human, but it’s all the same.”

  “What do you mean ‘not human’?”

  “Calves.”

  Colt had worked on a farm?

  “No. Not the same!” Sarah hit the screen on her cell and dialed Jack. It went straight to voicemail. Crap, he’s in surgery. She tapped the browser and tried her best to watch where she was running while she—

  Shit! Sarah flew through the air, nearly landing on her face. Pain immediately swept through her body: wrists, because she tried to break her fall; hip, because her wrists showed up too late; and abdomen, because her wound still felt tender.

  “Agggh!” she groaned.

  “Are you alright?” Colt tried to help her up, but she couldn’t speak. Instead she waved him on.

  “Uh…tenth floor, right?” he said.

  She nodded, moaning in agony. “Yess…”

  An older man walked by, looking at the commotion.

  “Call 9-1-1,” Colt commanded. “Tell them there’s a woman on the tenth level of the parking garage, giving birth.”

  The old man looked at Sarah, clearly confused about who needed the help.

  “She’s fine,” Colt said, answering the man’s unasked question.

  Sarah watched as Colt took off to find Taylor. “Follow the sound of the screaming,” she whimpered.

  By the time Sarah had shaken off her pain and the old man helped her to stand, 9-1-1 had been called and was sending help. Sarah was almost to the tenth floor of the parking garage.

  “Sonofabitch,” she panted, gripping the railing to pull herself up the last few steps. “I. Hate. Stairs.” As soon as she got to the top, she expected to hear screaming and cussing, but instead, she heard silence.

  Oh no. What’s wrong? Sarah’s panic turned into something much more severe than that: Horror, topped with devastation, laced with panic.

  “Taylor!” Sarah hobbled to her left, her eyes searching for Taylor’s black Range Rover.

  Nothing.

  Where are they?

  “Taylor!” she yelled again. Somewhere off in the distance, she heard an ambulance approaching.

  “We’re over here!” Colt’s deep voice echoed against the cement ceiling and the steel of the parked cars, in the opposite direction from where Sarah had come.

  Suddenly, she spotted his head popping up behind a white SUV.

  Dear God. Please let Taylor be okay. Taylor’s mother had died in childbirth due to complications. It was the one event that had shaped her best friend’s life in ways she could never fully grasp. Please let her be okay. It was too silent. Too silent. Had Tay passed out?

  Sarah ran despite her pain until she cleared the SUV and spotted a shirtless Colt standing beside Taylor’s car, in front of an open back door.

  “Is she okay? Taylor! Help is on the…” Sarah’s words faded as the sound of a cry filled her ears. She practically pushed Colt out of the way. “No. I don’t believe it.”

  Inside the Range Rover was Taylor lying back, her head propped up against the door, a tiny gooey pink little baby in her arms and a black sweater stretched over her lap.

  “Told ya I could deliver babies,” Colt said with a smug grin, crossing his muscled arms over his chiseled chest.

  I want to pet you. With my tongue. But now was
not the time. Still, she couldn’t help feeling all mushy inside. He’d come to Taylor’s rescue. He’d delivered a baby without batting an eyelash. Is there anything he can’t do? He’s amazing.

  Sarah looked at Taylor’s face. Her smile stretched from ear to ear while she beamed down at her baby.

  “Ohmygod. That was fast. Are you okay?” Sarah asked, still in shock.

  “Never better. The little guy practically sprinted out of me.” Taylor sighed, brushing her hand over her baby’s head. “Thank you, Colt. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “Sarah,” Taylor said with the utmost joy, “meet Colt Wade. My son.”

  “Colt? You’re naming him Colt?” Nooo…

  “It’s the perfect name.” Taylor sighed.

  Oh, come on! That name would ensure she never forgot Colt.

  Sarah closed her gaping mouth and looked at Colt, who no longer smiled. In fact, he looked pale and sick.

  “Are you all right, Colt?” She grabbed his arm. “Do you need a doctor?”

  “No. I just saw her—I’m fine.” Still, he raised his hands to the sides of his head and started taking deep breaths, just like that night at Luci’s house.

  “You don’t look fine. Are you having another panic attack?” Sarah said.

  The ambulance pulled up, and his hazel eyes popped open. “I-I-I have to go.”

  “Where?”

  “To see Mike.” He walked away as the paramedics rushed toward the Range Rover.

  “But…” Sarah looked at him and then at her friend and back again at Colt. What just happened?

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Once Sarah had seen to it that Taylor and baby Colt—cringe, cringe, oh God, why Colt for a name?—were comfortably settled in the maternity ward and the proper males—Bennett, Taylor’s father, Jack, and the two other brothers—had been notified along with their closest friends, Sarah headed back to her apartment to finish packing.