Their Nine-Month Surprise

By Laurel Greer

How do you prepare for the change of a lifetime?

She’s determined to do it all by herself…

but he’ll do anything to earn her trust!

Returning from vacation, veterinary tech Lachlan Reid is shocked—the woman he’s been dreaming about for months is on his doorstep. He hasn’t forgotten his one magical night with Marisol Cardenas—nor will he now that she’s pregnant! Lachlan has always wanted to be a dad and works tirelessly to make Marisol see his commitment. But can he convince marriage-shy Marisol to form the family of their dreams?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Harlequin
• Release date: Jun 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781488069796

Laurel Greer

Born and raised in a small Vancouver Island town, Laurel picked up her pen to write Julie Garwood fan-fiction during junior high English class. She hasn't put it down since. Ever committed to the proper placement of the Canadian "eh," she loves to write books with snapping sexual tension and second chances. She lives outside Vancouver with her law-talking husband and two daughters. At least half her diet is made up of tea. Find her at www.laurelgreer.com.

Book preview

Chapter One

Marisol Cardenas’s car was only the second one in the lot when she pulled up to the Sutter Creek Veterinary Clinic. Excellent. She’d purposefully planned to arrive ahead of opening hours, before Lachlan got busy and found yet another excuse to blow her off. When she’d left him a voice mail back in January, she’d told him they could talk later.

She hadn’t meant five months later.

But after he hadn’t called back, she tried the clinic. And wow, his receptionist. A peach, that guy. The snarky He’s in the Andes—she’d laughed at that one. As if Lachlan would be traveling given how committed he’d been to starting his dog training facility. The subsequent He’s in Australia and Why don’t you fly to Korea and see him there instead of clogging up my phone line excuses had been equally creative, but not nearly so funny.

And she’d been too busy throwing up to test what the fourth song and dance would be.

Message received, Lachlan.

But have I got one to give to you.

He could use his receptionist as a human shield all he wanted, but couldn’t avoid her in person. And yeah, it had taken her months to get her life together enough to be able to come back to Sutter Creek. But now that she’d arrived, she was here for good.

Her second-hand maternity clothes and mismatched dishes and many, many textbooks were now stacked in the living room of her new apartment, a tangible—and heavy—reminder that her life was in Montana, now.

And with it, her child’s life. Lachlan’s child, too.

She’d driven past his apartment building on her way into town yesterday, and his truck had been right out front. Only the boxes and suitcases stacked to the roof of her ancient hatchback had prevented her from ringing his buzzer until he acknowledged her existence for the first time since December.

We going to do this, baby? she murmured, laying her hands on her round belly. Yeah, I know. It’s time.

Time to get out of her car and tell Lachlan he was going to be a daddy. Even though he wasn’t going to like it.

Acid burned her throat. He’d been honest, at least, when they’d been in the tangled sheets of their passionate, vacation-only fling.

I’m not looking for any kind of commitment, Marisol. I don’t want strings.

Nor was she upset that he didn’t want a relationship with her. She didn’t want that, either. A failed marriage during her undergraduate years had taught her that finishing a degree and having a relationship did not mix.

But parenthood was different. Hopefully, with time, Lachlan would come around to the idea of being a father. As a vet tech in his sister’s practice and a search and rescue handler, he was incredible with dogs and other animals, so she knew he had the capacity to care. He was well loved in Sutter Creek, too, or at least it had seemed so based on the sheer volume of hugs and conversations he’d been dragged into the few times they’d emerged from his bedroom while she’d been here on holiday in December.

And unless she stopped staring at the cheery blue clapboard building, one of the tiny ski town’s well-meaning residents would spot her, correctly guess her child’s paternity, and pass on the news to Lachlan before she mustered up the courage.

She could grip her steering wheel and deep breathe all she wanted, but no relaxation exercise would make this easier.

Rejection, here I come.

She hoisted herself out of the car, groaning at her lack of grace as she reached in to snag her satchel off the passenger seat. Her third trimester belly—she’d passed that marker last week—guaranteed she’d be waddling until she gave birth.

The sun promised a warm June day, but it still hadn’t managed to take the morning chill off. She wrapped her thin cardigan over her ever-expanding bump and headed for the door. If Lach’s shifts were the same as they’d been six months ago, he’d be working seven to four, so would have gotten here over an hour ago. His truck wasn’t in the parking lot, but that didn’t mean anything. He’d told her he usually biked to work in the summer months. And as much as she’d wanted to forget about Lachlan Reid, her brain had collected facts about him like a crow with shiny objects.

She shut her car door and walked along the cement sidewalk to the front entrance. The renovated rancher had pretty white shutters and planter boxes filled with geraniums and marigolds. The bright dots of color swam in her vision as she momentarily held her breath. She inhaled deeply—not far off what she’d been learning in labor and delivery class—and tried the door handle. Locked. Damn.

She knocked as loudly as she could in case Lachlan was off somewhere feeding animals or something. Her PhD focus on canine psychology meant she’d visited a fair number of animal clinics, and they usually had similar floor plans, with kennels in the back.

A lock snicked from the inside, and the door swung open.

Marisol’s heart raced.

It needn’t have. The person standing there had Lachlan’s dark blond hair and the same cheek dimples, but was about a head shorter and female.

Maggie, Marisol croaked at the veterinarian. The woman was dressed in purple scrubs, and still had the same pink-on-porcelain complexion as when Marisol had briefly met her in December. Not like Maggie’s brother’s outdoorsy tan. His skin had been almost as brown as Marisol’s, though her complexion came from her Colombian dad. She spent way too much time holed up in university libraries to get any color from the sun. Uh, nice place you have here. I like the blue paint.

Maggie crossed her arms and cocked her head. She took a step back. Looking for Lachlan, I assume?

Marisol swallowed down her panic. She hadn’t gotten much of a read on the vet the last time she was in town. She’d been too busy kissing Lachlan to pay much mind to his family.

Keep it casual. Yeah, I thought I’d stop by and say hi. Before nine on a Monday? Like that’s going to throw her off the scent?

Judging by Maggie’s laser gaze on Marisol’s belly, veterinary school covered simple arithmetic. "Just say hi?"

Marisol pressed her lips together. There was something sacred about learning about becoming a parent, about that knowledge transfer. She couldn’t violate it, no matter how much Lachlan’s avoidance stung. She’d been lying to her own brother since she realized she was pregnant, claiming her child was the result of a New Year’s Eve date with a fellow doctoral student. And she’d dodged the Are you, uh, expecting a roommate at some point? question when she’d accepted her keys from her new landlord yesterday. The woman, Mackenzie Dawson, worked for the ski resort and knew Marisol’s brother well. Not exactly the person to be spilling secrets to. But Marisol had to handle Maggie carefully. Now that she’d moved to Montana, a good relationship with her child’s aunt was critical.

I got to town yesterday and was exhausted. Crashed the minute my brother finished helping me unload my car, she said quietly. This is my first chance to speak to Lachlan.

Sweet baby jelly beans, Maggie murmured. She backed up until she rested against the waist-high counter of the reception desk. An odd mixture of anger and hope stretched her mouth. I’m going to be an auntie?

I need to talk to your brother.

The derision darkening Maggie’s brown eyes made Marisol’s stomach lurch. Apparently, neither Reid sibling was going to be excited about a new addition to their family.

You should have talked to him months ago, Maggie said. I know you haven’t yet, because if you had, and if you’re going to tell him what I think you’re going to tell him, he would have filled me in. She waved a hand at Marisol’s stomach. It’s not like this is new information for you.

Holy crap, were the halogen pot-lights overhead emitting solar flares? Sweat beaded on Marisol’s brow, and she shucked out of her cardigan, then held it in front of her bump. He blew me off.

He wouldn’t do that, Maggie insisted.

No, sorry, he had your receptionist do it for him.

Holding in the sarcastic response, Marisol spread a hand over the cotton of her maternity blouse and aimed for a neutral smile. Maggie, I really don’t feel right confirming or denying anything with anyone except Lachlan. Is he here?

The other woman shook her head. He’s starting late. She checked her watch. He’ll be here in ten.

Marisol gritted her teeth. Mind if I wait?

You’d better. Maggie’s lips flattened, but she motioned for Marisol to enter and have a seat in the waiting area. You’re going to let him be involved, right?

If he wants to be. Marisol winced. Ack. There went not confirming anything. Sure, it was a technicality at this point, but still. She mentally kicked herself as she eased into a seat in the space adjacent to the reception desk, filled with pet-friendly vinyl chairs and stunning wildlife photography.

"If he wants to be? The exclamation nearly rattled the front window. You clearly don’t know Lachlan very well."

How could she have? She’d come in December to visit her brother, Zach, and his fiancée and child, and had spent a good chunk of the vacation in a passionate fling with Lachlan. Hours before catching the plane home, she had brought up the impossibilities of a long-distance relationship. It had been nice to have that as an excuse instead of having to explain her feelings about commitment. Lachlan had saved her further, though, throwing out his no strings line. He’d explained that everything in his life had to focus on expanding Maggie’s clinic with a training facility for working dogs.

She could thank her divorce for teaching her to appreciate Lachlan’s kind of clarity.

She’d understood his single-minded priorities, too. She’d delayed her academic goals when she married young. Her husband had been a grad student, and she’d reduced her course load to part-time so that she could work to pay a bigger chunk of their bills. They’d planned for her to go back full-time once he finished his degree. But he’d accumulated more bills than she’d known about.

Even though the judge presiding over their divorce had ruled that her ex was responsible for payment, he defaulted on the payments, and the creditors had come after her. Settling his debts in a desperate attempt to avoid bankruptcy had made it even harder to finish her degrees in the ideal amount of time. Working part-time, scrambling for scholarships and grants, borrowing from her parents—she’d been playing catch-up for close to a decade. She’d learned to bury her pride, to scrimp and plan.

And when she realized she was pregnant, she came up with a new plan. One that she loved, no matter what Lachlan decided to do. Living in Sutter Creek meant she was blocks away from her brother and his family. That was more hands-on support than she had in Vancouver, given their parents and sisters lived a couple of hours outside of the city. And she’d even been able to arrange to complete her PhD prospectus and dissertation research at the university in Bozeman. She’d been lucky to find a professor who was experienced in canine psychology. God, given how involved Lachlan was with avalanche dogs, he probably knew her supervisor. His interest in canine behavior had been one of the reasons Marisol had started flirting with him in the first place.

Now that she was set for support and her degree, it didn’t matter if he was too busy building a dog-training empire to get involved with their baby. She wouldn’t be left in a hospital, grieving alone...

There won’t be any grieving this time. Just joy.

Swallowing down the memories threatening to emerge, she glanced up at Maggie, who was still standing by the reception desk with a perplexed look on her face. I know your brother as well as he let me know him.

Maggie’s brow crinkled. Are we talking about the same Lachlan?

Given your nose scrunches up identically when you’re confused? Yeah.

Oh. White teeth tugged on a lipstick-free mouth. You know a few things about him, then.

I know a lot about him. Mainly things to do with his naked body, though. Nothing useful for figuring out coparenting.

Instead of trying to turn any of that into something shareable, she shrugged.

Maggie’s throat bobbed, and her eyes grew damp. He’s going to be elated. He’s wanted a family forever.

Elated? That didn’t make any sense. But—

Marisol’s phone chimed in her satchel. Excuse me, that might be Lach. I texted him yesterday. Yet another unanswered message, but at least she could say she’d tried.

She pulled out her phone. Just her brother, a text asking her to call. Crap, I need to make a call, but my phone isn’t set up with US minutes yet—sorry to impose, but is there one I can use?

Behind the reception desk. Dial six to get out. Just make sure you vacate the seat by eight fifty-nine, or face my receptionist’s wrath.

If that’s the only wrath I face today, I’ll be golden, she muttered as she crossed the room to the reception counter.

Maggie caught her wrist. What do you mean?

Heat rose up Marisol’s neck. It was a joke. Poorly timed, maybe, but let’s be honest—you’ve been edging on laying into me since I got here, and I wouldn’t be surprised if your brother did the same, so...

He’s not going to— Short, sun-streaked curls bobbed as Maggie shook her head and released Marisol’s arm. Crumb cake. I shouldn’t get involved in this.

Without a parting greeting, she disappeared down the short hallway and behind a door, which promptly slammed.

Marisol flinched, and the motion made the baby shift. She rubbed a hand over her stomach and sat behind the reception desk. Shh, everything’s under control.

Or, rather, she thought it had been. Arrive in Montana safely—check. Move into apartment—check. Complete degree requirements—underway. Love baby with entire being—check, check, check.

She loved a well-crafted list.

But he’s wanted a family forever... If Maggie meant family in the sense of wife, kids and dogs, that wasn’t an item Marisol was prepared to even think about, let alone write down.

---

Lachlan Reid swung open the side door to his sister’s veterinary practice and the high-pitched bell tinkled, as per usual. The walls of the rear hallway were still hurting for a fresh coat of pale blue paint. His German Shorthaired Pointer, Fudge, ill-mannered as hell when not working as an avalanche dog, pushed past him and headed for her food dish as she always did.

Nothing else was the same.

The blueprint roll in his hand, the one he finally had the savings and financing to see come to fruition, canceled out everything familiar this morning, from the well-loved laminate on the floor to the faint barks signifying breakfast was being served in the kennels.

He’d spent five months working his ass off teaching other SAR dog handlers abroad, which had provided extra seed money to make this blueprint come to life. That, plus the grant he was a shoo-in to receive, meant things were a go. Success didn’t smell sweet, it smelled like kibble and disinfectant and the dirt floor of the ancient barn out back that he’d finally renovate into a dog training facility.

He wiped his sneakers on the mat and traded his hoodie for the lab coat hanging on a hook in the staff room. Grabbing a coffee from the gurgling machine, he headed down the short hall behind the front desk, toward the head of long, chestnut-brown waves tied in a no-nonsense ponyt—wait, what?

He froze in his tracks. Coffee slopped on the floor.

Their receptionist was a guy.

Who did not have a ponytail. Especially not that ponytail.

Lachlan knew that ponytail. Intimately. And it, and the woman it was attached to, was supposed to be in Vancouver, not Sutter Creek.

Lach had spent a good deal of time under the mistletoe with his hands in Marisol Cardenas’s hair.

On her shoulders, hips... Hell, all over her curvy body.

His stomach heated and palms tingled at the possibility of getting to repeat the experience.

The reception desk ran parallel to the hallway, forming a T. And why she was sitting behind it, well, he wasn’t ready for the answer. His feet refused to move forward.

I’m seeing things. Got affected by the altitude on the glacier yesterday. But two long blinks affirmed he wasn’t suffering from delayed-onset hallucinations. Maybe his sister let Marisol in?

Who cares? He could think of far worse ways to spend a Monday morning before the literal animal hordes arrived. Or rather, he would have back in December before Marisol had preemptively cut off any possibility of a relationship by asking, this is just a fling, right? He’d stammered out some sort of response, saving his pride by telling her he was too busy with work to get involved with anyone.

And when he’d gotten a last-minute invitation to work out of the country after the original trainer had backed out, jumping on the offer had been about distracting himself from his memories of Marisol as much as the welcome financial opportunity.

He’d only returned a week ago, and adjusting to no longer living in a hotel room was taking longer than he’d expected.

The dog, finished with her meal, pranced past Lachlan to greet Marisol. Not with her usual wiggle-ass maneuvers, though. Fudge gave Marisol a few tentative sniffs, and let out a whine before sidling up and putting her brown-and-white head in Marisol’s lap.

Hey, baby, Marisol crooned, scratching the dog behind her ears.

Affection warmed his core, but he shut down the response. She’s talking to the dog, not you, idiot.

Hey, Lach.

Yep, no endearment for him. She didn’t even turn around, kept her focus solidly on whatever book she was holding.

Hey, baby, he mimicked. Not to the dog, and by the way Marisol sat straighter, she knew it.

He closed the distance and hitched a hip on the desk. Mari—

Holy. Jesus.

His lips went numb. He gripped the counter with both hands to stop himself from sliding to the floor.

And she gripped her textbook to her abdomen. Her very round abdomen.

Marisol’s golden-brown skin paled. Her throat bobbed once, twice. She muttered something in German that couldn’t be anything but profanity. Lachlan...

A thousand responses bounced around his head, but all he managed to get out was one crude word.

Burying his fingers in his hair, and unable to control his gaping mouth, he stared at her stomach. He was versed in domestic animal gestation, not human, but that bump had to be around the six-month mark. He didn’t need to count backward to know what that meant.

Her lip started to wobble