Free No Strings Attached (Last Hope Ranch Book 1) by Amanda McIntyre

a few days, right?”
    Sally tossed her a side look and noticed she looked a little pale. She grabbed an armful of undergarments from the top drawer, and dumped them in the suitcase. “Doc Johnson? Everything okay?
    Aimee stood and walked over to Sally’s reading chair. “Did you want to take these?” She scooped up two cardigans draped over the back.
    “Yes, go ahead and put them in,” Sally answered, heading to her closet. She picked out a number of interchangeable pieces and turned to find Aimee meticulously folding the cardigans. She hadn’t responded yet about her doctor visit. “Aimee?”
    Her friend looked up as though she’d been lost in her thoughts. “Hum? I’m sorry. I was thinking about something else, did you say something?”
    Sally noticed then the dark circles under her friend’s eyes. She scooted the suitcase and sat on the end of the bed. She patted the spot beside her. “Sit.”
    Aimee sighed, but did as Sally requested. She held one of Sally’s sweaters, plucking at a loose string.
    “Aimee, you’re not sick are you? You’d tell me if it was something like that, right?” An old familiar hollow feeling swallowed Sally’s insides, like the time her mother had fist told her about her dad’s diagnosis of multiple sclerosis.
    Aimee touched her shoulder. “Oh, honey. No, no I’m fine… I will be, anyway, as soon as I get over the shock.”
    Sally narrowed her gaze. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. You’re pregnant.”
    Aimee’s eyes welled. She nodded.
    Relief flooded Sally and she let out the breath she’d not realized she was holding in. “What great news! I’m so happy for you. And omigod , my little Gracie is going to be a big sister.” She wrapped her arms around her friend. It had been more than a couple of weeks since their girl’s night out.
    “I wasn’t sure how to tell you.” Aimee sniffed with her face muffled against Sally’s shoulder.
    Sally held her at arm’s length, searching her face. “Oh, sweetheart, I couldn’t be happier. I’m over the moon. Does Wyatt know yet?” she asked.
    “Not yet. I’ll tell him tonight. But he’ll want to tell everyone at dinner on Sunday.”
    “Of course. This is wonderful news.” Sally hugged her friend again. “But no more margaritas for you for a while. How far along are you?”
    “Not very. I’d taken a home test the other day after the smell of bacon made me queasy. I thought I’d gag. And you know how the Kinnison men love their bacon. Wyatt will cook up two pounds if he thinks Michael is stopping by for breakfast.”
    Having waitressed in high school at Betty’s, Sally had seen her share of meat lover breakfast platters going out to most of the male population in End of the Line. Where cattle ranching reigned supreme and hunting was the number one sport, there was little doubt as to why.
    “Please don’t mention this yet.” Aimee looked at Sally. “Especially not to Rein or Betty, for goodness sake. It’ll get to Wyatt before I can.” Aimee brushed the shine of tears from her cheeks. “Enough about me. What’d you find out with your visit to the fertility clinic?” Aimee shifted to face her, checking over her shoulder to be sure no one was in earshot.
    Unfortunately, the news was not nearly as wonderful as her friend’s. “Well, I’ve discovered there are a lot of people who are apparently having difficulty having children. So count your blessings.”
    Aimee smoothed her hand over her still flat stomach. “I do…every day.”
    Sally had brought home a handful of brochures on protocol, insurance, and break-down of costs with each stage of the IVF process. She dug them out of her book bag and handed them to Aimee. “I haven’t had a chance to look at those in great detail, but bottom line, it appears that it’s going to cost in the neighborhood of between eleven to fifteen thousand for in-vitro fertilization—and that’s if everything goes according to plan the first time.”
    “Yes, but you’re