Of course, his mother had no idea that old Owen had sown more than just one wild oat. Although she was the first woman he’d gotten pregnant, she certainly hadn’t been the last. Hell, Hunter doubted that Emerald was completely certain that he, Nick and Caleb were Owen’s only offspring.
But that was immaterial now. The fact of the matter was, in light of the way the Culbertsons had dealt with a similar situation, he understood and could even commend his grandmother for handling everything the way she had.
Lost in thought, it took a moment for Hunter to realize that Callie had gotten out of bed and was tiptoeing her way through the living room into the kitchen. “Can’t sleep?” he asked, careful to keep his voice nonthreatening so as not to frighten her.
Her startled cry was loud enough to wake the dead. So much for trying not to frighten her.
“It’s just me, Callie.”
“Dear heavens, you scared me out of a year’s growth,” she said, clutching something to the front of her robe.
“I’m sorry.” He switched on the lamp at the end of the love seat. “I didn’t mean to…” He stopped to stare at her when he realized what she was carrying. “What the hell are you doing with your apron at—” he checked his watch “—midnight?”
“I’m too keyed up to sleep,” she said defensively. “I thought I’d find something to do.”
He frowned. “So you’re going to start cooking?”
She breezed past him to enter the kitchen. “Everyone deals with stress in their own way. Some people drink. Some eat. I bake.”
That explained why she’d made enough baked goods to stock a chain of grocery stores, he thought as he followed her. She’d been scared witless since learning she was pregnant that Culbertson would find out about the baby. Now that he had, it appeared that Callie would be making enough cookies to feed every man, woman and child in the whole damned state.
“Our shift starts in a little less than eighteen hours.” He yawned. “Don’t you think it would be a good idea to be well rested when we go to work?”
She shook her head as she reached for a set of measuring cups and the canister of flour. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. You’re the one who needs rest to pilot the helicopter. Go back into the living room and get some sleep.”
“That’s easier said than done,” he muttered.
“I promise I won’t make much noise,” she said, knocking over the cup of flour she’d just measured.
“That’s not the problem.” He pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. “I’m too tall.”
“Excuse me?”
She looked thoroughly confused and so darned cute standing there in her nightclothes and apron, he had to force himself to remember what they were talking about. “The love seat is roughly fifty inches long and I’m six foot three. You do the math.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, dear. I’m sorry. I hadn’t thought of it being too short for you.” She shook her head. “But it’s not a problem. You can take my bed and I’ll sleep on the love seat.”
“Like hell.” He wasn’t about to sleep on a comfortable bed while she endured that instrument of torture in her condition.
“Why not?” she asked as she cleaned up the flour she’d spilled. “I’m at least ten inches shorter and shouldn’t have nearly as much trouble getting comfortable.”
“You’re pregnant.”
“And you’re bossy.” She grinned. “But I’m trying not to hold that against you.”
Her pretty smile sent a wave of heat straight through him, and he could think of several things he’d like for her to hold against him—every one of them soft, warm and deliciously feminine. He swallowed hard. Thinking along those lines could only accomplish one of two things. It would either get him in a whole lot deeper than he was comfortable with or drive him completely insane. And he wasn’t altogether sure that he hadn’t already crossed the line in both areas.
“I can sleep in one of the chairs and—”
“Wake up with a terribly stiff neck,” she interrupted, dropping an egg on the counter. “Darn.” Grabbing a paper towel, she cleaned up the mess. “If I’m going to be flying with you, I not only want you well rested, I’d like for you to have your full range of motion.”
“I can manage in the chair.” He stood up and started toward the living room, but her soft hand on his back stopped him dead in his tracks and sent a jolt of electric current throughout his system.
“I think we’re overlooking the obvious here,” she said, turning to measure more flour into a bowl. “I’ll probably be up for hours before I’m relaxed enough to go to sleep. There’s no reason for you to be uncomfortable when there’s an empty bed that you could be sleeping in. And if I want to go to sleep before you get up, I’ll be careful not to wake you when I lie down.”
She had a point. It was pretty silly for him to try to sleep in the chair when he could be stretched out. But just knowing that she’d eventually be getting in bed with him was enough to send him into orbit.
“I guess that could work,” he said, thinking aloud. “And we’re both adults. There’s no reason we can’t handle this.” And maybe if he repeated it enough, he’d start to believe it.
“Exactly.” She waved her hand toward the other room as she reached for a spoon and promptly knocked over a container of baking powder. “You’re distracting me. Now go to bed and let me get started on these cookies.”
Yawning, he scratched his bare chest and headed for her bedroom. Hopefully he’d be out like a light as soon as his head hit the pillow. And if he believed that, he was sure somebody had a piece of beachfront property in the middle of Arizona that he’d be fool enough to buy.
A couple of hours after Hunter went to lie down in her bed, Callie turned off the light in the kitchen and quietly walked into the bedroom. Making several dozen cookies had helped, but her nerves were still on edge and she expected they would remain that way until she was certain Craig was out of her life for good.
As she removed her slippers, then turned to pull back the cover, she forgot all about her current problem with Craig and focused on the sight of Hunter’s broad back. From the muted moonlight filtering into the room through the sheer drapes she could see that he was lying on his stomach with the sheet covering him from the waist down.