Repositioning his ball cap, Hunter watched her turn and hurry around the side of the house toward the front porch. He’d never seen a woman bake as much as Callie. Maybe it was some kind of hormonal nesting thing.
He shook his head as he grabbed the scraper from the back of the truck and climbed the ladder. Whatever it was, as long as she was inside the house baking and he was outside painting, there wouldn’t be any more encounters like the one they’d just shared. And if he repeated it enough times, he just might start to believe it.
When she heard someone knocking on the front door, Callie glanced at the clock on the stove. Hunter couldn’t possibly have driven out to the Life Medevac hangar, showered and changed clothes, then driven all the way back to her place in such a short time.
After he’d finished the arduous task of scraping away the peeling paint, he’d told her he was going to go back to the hangar and clean up while she finished dinner. Although she couldn’t imagine what it would be, he must have forgotten something.
Wiping her hands on a towel, she checked the pot roast she’d put in the oven earlier, then hurried to open the door. “I’m afraid dinner isn’t quite…” Her voice trailed off as icy fear froze her vocal cords and filled every cell in her being.
“Hello, Callie.” Craig Culbertson flashed his practiced smile as he brushed past her. “Since you didn’t know I was coming for a visit, I didn’t expect you to make dinner for me. But I’m sure whatever you’re cooking up will be delicious.”
“Wh-what are you doing here?” she asked, gripping the doorknob so hard she wouldn’t be surprised if she left her fingerprints embedded in the metal.
“I’ve missed you.” He looked around her small, tidy living room. “What were you thinking when you left Houston for this? It’s not even as nice as that minuscule apartment you had.”
She ignored his insult and repeated her question. “Why are you here, Craig?”
Turning to face her, his charming smile disappeared; it was replaced with an expression of utter disgust. “Good God! You’re pregnant.”
Drawing on every ounce of courage she’d ever possessed, she squared her shoulders and placed a protective hand on her stomach. “Yes, I am.”
“It’s mine, isn’t it?” he asked, his tone accusing.
Knowing full well that he wouldn’t believe her, she shook her head. “No. The baby belongs to—”
“Me.”
Callie had never been so relieved to see anyone in her entire life as she was when Hunter walked through the open door and put his arm around her shoulders. Nor had she ever been as shocked when she heard his claim to be her baby’s father.
“This is Craig Culbertson from Houston,” she said, silently thanking Hunter for intervening. “Hunter O’Banyon is my—”
“Husband,” Hunter interrupted, giving her a look that asked for her to trust him.
“You’re married?” Craig shook his head. “You can’t be. Your mother said you only moved here a couple of months ago. That’s not nearly long enough to find yourself a husband and get knocked up.”
“I take exception to the phrase ‘knocked up’ in reference to my wife’s pregnancy,” Hunter said, his voice hard as granite.
“Sorry.” His tone was anything but apologetic, but Craig apparently decided that Hunter meant business and wasn’t one to be trifled with, because he immediately began to backpedal. “It was just an expression, no offense intended.”
A fresh wave of fear coursed through Callie as she thought about her last conversation with her mother and how she’d tried to get Callie to tell her who the baby’s father was. Had her mother inadvertently hinted to Craig that Callie might be carrying his child?
“Why did you call my mother?” she asked, surprised that her voice was fairly steady considering the state of her nerves.
Craig gave her the smile that she used to think made him look endearingly handsome. Now it only made her feel ill.
“When I discovered your old phone number was no longer in service, I remembered your mother’s name, looked up her number and called her to ask how to get in touch with you.” He shrugged. “She was reluctant to tell me about your move to Texas until I told her that we’d been seeing each other before you left and how much I missed you. That’s when she suggested that if I was ever in the Devil’s Fork area that I should look you up. I decided to clear my calendar for the rest of the week and make the drive out here to no-man’s-land to see how you’re doing.”
Callie did a slow burn. She wasn’t as angry with her mother as she was with Craig. He’d obviously fed her mother a line about how much he cared, and her mother had fallen for it. Unfortunately Nancy Marshall had never met Craig and had no idea what a snake he was. He wasn’t interested in how Callie was doing. His ego was still smarting from the fact that Callie had been the one who’d rejected him instead of the other way around.
“Actually your mother and I talked for some time and I found her to be a very nice lady,” Craig added solicitously.
“Oh, really?” Callie shook her head. “It’s amazing to me that you carried on a lengthy conversation with my mother when you never would take the time to meet her when you and I were seeing each other.”
“You’ve always been close with your mother, haven’t you, Callie?” Craig asked.
She gritted her teeth. “You know I have.”
“That’s the main reason I find it odd that she didn’t know anything about your marriage.” He rocked back on his heels as he pointed to Hunter. “It seems to me that she would be the first one you told about your marriage to O’Banyon.”
When the timer on the stove went off, indicating that the pot roast was done, Callie reluctantly left the two men standing in her living room glaring at each other. She had no idea what was going to take place or how to deal with it. Hunter’s expression from the moment he’d walked through the door had been dark and foreboding. And Craig, as was his usual fashion when he felt threatened, had become arrogant and condescending.
Removing the roast from the oven, she hurried back into the living room before punches started flying. “Craig, I’m sure you have better things to do with your time than stand here debating my marital status.”
He shook his head. “Not really. But I will take you up on that offer of dinner.”