Mom-to-be is looking for a labor coach. Tuesdays and Thursdays for two hours. Only a month-long commitment. Needed immediately.
*You won’t have to be at the actual labor and delivery.
**You won’t have to change any diapers.
Cordy rubbed her belly, feeling sick. What was she even thinking? This would never work.
She had to take this labor class at the hospital, but it required a partner. Cordy had no idea what to do with a baby and couldn’task her mom. Despite not having anyone to give her advice, she was determined to be ready for this baby and be the best mother she could, so the courses would have to tell her everything she needed to know.
She intended to take every single baby care class the hospital offered—she was already certified in infant CPR—and get everything a baby might need. Just because she’d started out clueless didn’t mean she couldn’t figure this out. Just because she was scared out of her mind about raising a baby alone didn’t mean she couldn’t be proactive.
People were staring at her, reading the ad, then looking back at her. Eyes were widening in shock. Whispers were passing back and forth.
Her gaze landed on the Parents’ Corner, where several moms with toddlers and babies were clustered around a table scattered with toys. Cordy wondered what would happen if she joined them.
Technically, she belonged there, but she’d never done it. Whenever she came in, she’d see them looking friendly, cozy, and happy together, but she’d never had the courage to sit with them.
Despite being in Star Crossed Springs for almost a year, she still felt like an outsider. People were friendly when she was behind the bar, but after Reed had died, the community got decidedly cooler toward her. She’d never forget the awkwardness of his funeral. The Saxon family hadn’t known what to do with her, and the rest of town had taken their cues from them. Cordy wasn’t Reed’s widow—she wasn’t even really his girlfriend—so what was she?
Just a pregnant bartender on her own, it seemed.
It hit her in the chest how bad this idea was. She’d just announced to the entire town she was desperate enough to advertise. No one would help her.
One of the moms, a brunette with long lashes, was staring straight at Cordy. Was that concern in her eyes? Pity? Judgment? Cordy looked quickly away.
Oh God. She had to get out of here.
Cordy turned, her face hot as the sun… and smacked straight into a heavy, warm body.
“Oof.” Cordy bounced off whoever it was. They were solid as a wall.
She wasn’t, though. She stumbled backward, her arms pinwheeling. Her pregnancy made her balance crap.
Oh no. Her heart slammed into her chest as she grabbed at nothing.
“Hold up.” Strong hands caught her arms. Quickly, easily, she was put back upright.
She looked up and into the eyes of Chance Kessal.
Her heart fluttered instinctively. Chance was incredibly handsome, with the kind of chiseled features that might have made him a model if he wasn’t a cowboy to the bone. Dark, strong brows, deep brown eyes, and a mouth made for kissing. If Cordy weren’t already dizzy, she’d be swooning.
Chance was the town playboy, often picking up women at the Swing Inn, where Cordy tended bar. He was never with the same woman twice, and the goodbyes were easy and final.
Rumor had it he did the same thing at the Red Dog, the seedier bar on the other side of town. You went to the Swing Inn if you wanted a fun night with your friends and the Red Dog if you wanted a taste of danger with your drinks. Chance liked to pick up women in both places.
Cordy would admit he was good at what he did. If a man had to sleep around, he should spread as many smiles as Chance did.
But in the end, he was a tomcat. You gave him food and pets when he came scratching at the door, then you let him go outinto the night to do his thing. You didn’t bring him into your house.
“Sorry,” she said. “Thanks for catching me.”
Under his cowboy hat, his eyes were the color of sun-brewed tea. His hair was several shades darker, almost touching black. The way his button-down shirt clung to his broad shoulders made her blink. If she looked down, she’d see blue denim snugly hugging thick thighs.
Cordy kept her eyes firmly up.
Chance’s hand lingered on her arm, fingers curled around her elbow. The intimate motion seemed so much like second nature to him he probably didn’t even realize it. “No problem. You okay?”
“Sure.” Cordy fake-beamed at him.
