Ridden Hard - Kim Loraine

1

Hazel

This couldn’t be happening.

It couldn’t.

But it was.

I stared down at the little plastic test in my hand like it was a bomb about to go off, wondering if maybe, just maybe, I misread the results. Two pink lines filled the small window. Somehow, after years of trying, after tears and pain and resignation, I was pregnant. Two years ago, I would have been crying with joy, bubbling over with excitement to tell my husband we’d conceived. But that was then. That was the bright future I’d envisioned for myself when Quinn and I had gotten married five years earlier.

This was now. I stood in the bathroom of my sister’s condo, hands shaking, heart pounding, stomach churning. What was I going to do? It had been one time. One night. The only time I’d let my hair down since before my divorce was final. This was how I got to remember my roll in the hay with a sexy cowboy? A permanent reminder of a drunken night.

My palm slid from where it was pressed against my chest down to my lower belly. I’d always wanted kids, but never thought it would happen. Now that it was, I didn’t know how to feel. This was not how I’d planned for my family to begin. I’d had it all carefully mapped out. Marry my dream guy, start my nurse practitioner practice, get my career off the ground, then have children. I’d done them all in order. Until it came crashing down in the form of changed locks and divorce papers with zero warning from Quinn.

A knock on the door had me flinching so hard I dropped the pregnancy test. It clattered into the sink as my twin sister, Erin, opened the door. “Are you okay? You’ve been in there a long time.”

She frowned and locked her gaze on the test. “Oh, no. Really? The cowboy?”

Taking a deep breath, I nodded, then turned and dropped to my knees in front of the toilet as another wave of what I now recognized as morning sickness hit me.

Erin held my hair back, palm rubbing between my shoulder blades until I was finished, then I stood on shaky legs and rinsed out my mouth.

“Are you gonna tell him?”

I nodded, thinking back to the night I spent with him. I barely remembered the man, just a flash of piercing blue eyes, a crooked smile, and a slow drawl. “I have to find him first.”

Hazel

Three months earlier

* * *

“Okay, get out of bed and go shower. You look like a homeless person.” Erin pulled the blankets off me, baring my face to the harsh light of my current reality.

“Leave me alone. I’m not done wallowing.”

“Ugh, you smell like a homeless person too. You haven’t left your room in three straight days. If you hadn’t been taking the food I left outside your door, I would have thought this was a recovery mission.”

I cocked a brow. “Recovery?”

“Yeah, you know, like maybe you died and I’d find nothing but your stinky corpse under those blankets. Thank God you snore like a buzzsaw too.”

“I do not snore.”

“That’s what you think,” she said in her sing-song voice. “Now, come on. It’s Saturday night, and I am taking you on a field trip.”

“I want to stay here.”

“Sorry. No can do. I’m the oldest, and I say we’re getting you out of this funk.”

Anger boiled inside me, mixed with frustration and despair. I’d just lost everything. Three months ago, my marriage imploded. Three weeks ago, we signed the divorce papers. Three days ago, I had to move out of my office and shut down my practice because Quinn no longer thought his wellness center required a nurse practitioner on staff. Thank God I had a sizable nest egg from the sale of our beautiful shared home. If I had to start over, at least I had money.

“You’re older by five minutes.”

She shrugged. “Still older. Now get out of bed, drag your nasty ass to the shower, and I want to see you dressed to kill in thirty minutes.”

Half an hour later, I was clean, polished, and wearing a tight-fitting pair of jeans paired with a white, off the shoulder top.

“No, no, no. I said dressed to kill, not to go to the grocery store.” Erin rolled her eyes. “Hold on.”

She stomped into her bedroom and, in moments, returned with a wine red dress that had a neckline so low, I knew I wouldn’t be able to wear a bra with it. “Erin, I’m not wearing that.”

“Oh,