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have more than Rickie, right?”
    “Two others. They’re between me and Rickie.”
    “What’d you tell them about the wedding?”
    “Nothing. They’ll just assume I hitched my wagon to yours for the cash. That’s what we James women do. Find a sugar daddy.” Olympia tried to smile and make a joke of it. That wasn’t easy since her entire life she’d been telling herself that she’d never get stuck pregnant and relying on a man like her mama and grammy. She and Spence stood in the doorway, and even over the horses and hay, she could smell him—which would have been fine, except it made her warm and gooey inside. “I’m hungry,” she said, hoping that would encourage him to move on.
    “That’s good. If you can’t keep down food, there could be trouble for the baby.”
    “Thought your brother was the doctor?” She followed Spence to the house, taking sneak peeks at the way his jeans followed the curve of his rear. They wouldn’t be sleeping together again—because that would just be a bad idea, right?—but she could still admire the view. She’d had that strong, round butt in her hands when Spence had... When they’d made the baby that... Damn. The nausea roiled up from her middle. “I’m going to skip dinner,” she said, rushing by him and into her room.
    She sat on her bed, closing her eyes and willing away the ball of sickness. Could she break the contract? Hide out somewhere until she had the baby and handed it over to a nice couple? If she’d had a normal family, she would’ve been on the phone to her mama for advice and support. She’d never had the time to make close friends, either, because she’d been taking care of her siblings. Who had time for going to dances or sleepovers when her sisters were at home sick with the flu? She’d barely squeaked through high school. For a second, she thought about calling Jessie, but her one friend was also Spence’s sister-in-law—hers, too, she guessed. That meant Olympia couldn’t confide in her, could she? No. That would put Jessie in a bad place.
    * * *
    “Y OU ’ VE GOT TO EAT ,” Spence said through the door, hoping his voice sounded less annoyed than he felt.
    “Not now.”
    “Come on. What can I make you? Toast?”
    The door swung open, and he stepped back from Olympia’s white and angry face. “I’m not hungry. If I eat anything, I’ll throw up. I do not like throwing up, so I’m not eating. I might not be a smart attorney, but I can figure that out on my own.”
    “You might be nauseated because you haven’t eaten. Everything I’ve read indicates that having frequent small amounts of food will stop the queasy feeling.” She clenched her fists, and his internal voice said,
You had to prove that you’re smarter, didn’t you?
    “Do you want me to kill you?”
    He backed away. “If you don’t want supper, we still need to talk.” She didn’t move. “Um, I’ve addressed your concerns with the...” He motioned to her midsection.
    “Adoption, like I asked?”
    “How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t walk away from my children.” She glared at him as color flooded her unnaturally pale cheeks. He went on, “The document makes it clear that you won’t be responsible for the child.”
    “Fine. But I don’t want a bunch of legalese crap. I don’t have the money for a lawyer to check on you.” She gulped in a breath.
    “Are you going to be sick?”
    “Probably.” She closed her eyes, and any color she’d gained disappeared.
    He reached out to touch her but let his hand hover. They didn’t have that kind of relationship. He really didn’t have the right to comfort her. But he couldn’t stop feeling that he should hold her until she felt like her usual sassy, drive-him-to-drink self. “We can do this later if you need to lie down.” His fingers landed lightly on her forearm. He could feel the warmth of her skin under his fingertips and the slight tremor. He aimed her toward the twin bed shoved against