Free A Baby Under the Tree by Judy Duarte

would give him time to drive home, shower and shave.
    â€œThat sounds good.”
    It certainly did. And since she was going to have a two-hour drive back to Houston, he wondered if she planned to spend the night.
    If so, that sounded even better yet.
    Â 
    Jillian entered the Stagecoach Inn more than thirty minutes early—and sporting an unmistakable baby bump. Now that she’d passed her fourth month, her womb seemed to be growing more each day.
    Hoping to disguise the evidence of her pregnancy until she had the chance to tell him about it, she’d found a table for two and took a seat that faced the front door. She really hadn’t suffered any morning sickness, likeother women, but her tummy was tossing and turning now, just at the thought of facing Shane.
    She’d been dragging her feet for months, and now that she’d come to tell him, she wished she’d done so sooner. But there wasn’t anything she could do about that now.
    So, while waiting for him, she scanned the honky-tonk, noting the scuffed and scarred hardwood floor, the red-and-chrome jukebox, the Old-West-style bar that stretched the length of the building. If she’d ever tried to imagine what a cowboy bar would look like, this would be it.
    At the table next to hers, two young women wearing tight jeans and scooped-neck T-shirts laughed about something, then clinked their longneck bottles in a toast.
    Was this the place where Shane hung out in the evenings or on his days off? Is that why he’d suggested she meet him here?
    â€œCan I get you a drink?” a blond, harried waitress asked.
    â€œDo you have any fruit juice?”
    â€œI’ll have to check with the bartender to see what other choices you have, but I know we’ve got OJ for sure.”
    â€œThat’ll be fine. Thank you.”
    The bleached-blond waitress had no more than walked away from the table when Jillian’s cell phone rang. She grabbed it from her purse, hoping it wasn’t Shane telling her he’d been delayed, since she’d put off this conversation for too long as it was.
    But when she checked the display, she spotted her grandmother’s number.
    â€œDid you get to Brighton Valley safely?” Gram asked.
    Jillian pressed her cell phone against her ear, trying to block out the sounds of a Texas two-step as it blasted out of the jukebox. “Yes. It was a pretty easy drive, although it was a long one.”
    â€œWhere are you?”
    â€œAt a bar called the Stagecoach Inn.”
    â€œIt sounds pretty wild,” Gram said. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
    â€œI’m fine.”
    â€œI don’t know about that,” Gram said. “I probably should have insisted upon going with you. Where will you be staying?”
    â€œRight next door at the Night Owl Motel.”
    â€œThat sounds a little…rustic. Don’t they have anything nicer than that in town?”
    â€œNot that I know of,” Jillian said. “But don’t worry. I’ll be okay. Besides, you’re the one who told me I needed to tell Shane about the baby.”
    â€œI know, but…” Gram was clearly having second thoughts.
    And so was Jillian. She’d never been in a country bar before, and the Night Owl was a world away from those five-star hotels she’d been used to. But the last thing she wanted to do was to cause her grandmother any undue stress.
    â€œThe motel really isn’t that bad,” she said, trying to talk above a sudden hoot of laughter. “The room isclean, and the bed is soft. I’ll be fine tonight. Then I’ll drive back to Houston in the morning.”
    The waitress returned with the orange juice in a Mason jar. “Here you go. Let me know if you’d like anything else.”
    Jillian offered her a smile. “Thanks. This will be fine for now.”
    As the waitress walked away, Gram said, “I’m still uneasy about you being there all alone,