A Partridge and a Pregnancy: Holiday Brothers
A PARTRIDGE AND A PREGNANCY
Copyright © 2021 by Devney Perry LLC
All rights reserved.
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ISBN: 978-1-950692-67-5
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No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations in a book review.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
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Editing & Proofreading:
Marion Archer, Making Manuscripts
www.makingmanuscripts.com
Karen Lawson, The Proof is in the Reading
Judy Zweifel, Judy’s Proofreading
www.judysproofreading.com
Julie Deaton, Deaton Author Services
www.facebook.com/jdproofs
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Cover:
Sarah Hansen © Okay Creations
www.okaycreations.com
Other Titles
Calamity Montana Series
The Bribe
The Bluff
The Brazen
The Bully
Holiday Brothers Series
The Naughty, The Nice and The Nanny
Three Bells, Two Bows and One Brother’s Best Friend
A Partridge and a Pregnancy
Writing as Devney Perry
Jamison Valley Series
The Coppersmith Farmhouse
The Clover Chapel
The Lucky Heart
The Outpost
The Bitterroot Inn
The Candle Palace
Maysen Jar Series
The Birthday List
Letters to Molly
Lark Cove Series
Tattered
Timid
Tragic
Tinsel
Clifton Forge Series
Steel King
Riven Knight
Stone Princess
Noble Prince
Fallen Jester
Tin Queen
Runaway Series
Runaway Road
Wild Highway
Quarter Miles
Forsaken Trail
Dotted Lines
The Edens Series
Christmas in Quincy - Prequel
Indigo Ridge
Juniper Hill
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
The Naughty, The Nice and The Nanny
Three Bells, Two Bows and One Brother’s Best Friend
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Chapter One
Eva
I’m pregnant.
“Nope,” I muttered. There was no way I’d be able to say those two words out loud. Not yet.
Maybe tomorrow, but definitely not today.
My insides churned as I stared at the house in front of me. This was not where I wanted to be standing.
The cold was becoming unbearable. My nose was probably as red as Rudolph’s by now. There was a very real chance I’d lose my pinky toe to frostbite if I stayed out here much longer. I should go. Back to the car. Up to the door.
Yet here I stood.
Stuck.
I’d planned to spend my Christmas Eve at home, lounging in my flannel pajamas in front of my gas fireplace with a cup of cocoa in one hand and a book in the other. Instead, I was frozen to the sidewalk in front of my one-night stand’s house, working up the courage to ring the doorbell and announce I was pregnant.
I’m pregnant. Oh, how I wished those two words would stop bouncing around my head, and instead, bounce out of my mouth.
But first, I had to get unstuck.
My car was parked in the driveway at my back. Driving across town hadn’t been an issue. Neither had putting the sedan in park and stepping out from behind the wheel. I’d even managed to walk to the sidewalk. Twenty feet separated me from my destination. But my shoes might as well have been ice blocks in the concrete.
How had it come to this? How was I even here? I’d asked myself the same questions hours ago when I’d been sitting on the bathroom floor with a positive pregnancy test in hand.
One night. One night with Tobias. A farewell.
And now I was pregnant.
Stupid freaking farewells. Though technically, it had been another farewell.
Tobias and I had met for a drink to catch up. There’d been a little flirting. A lot of cabernet. When he’d asked me to come home with him, I’d decided it was fate giving me a second chance to say goodbye.
Our first goodbye hadn’t gone so well. There’d been crying—me. There’d been angry silence—him. There’d been heartache—us.
Over the years, I’d thought a lot about the night Tobias and I had ended our relationship. I’d replayed it countless times, wondering what I should have done and what I should have said.
Regrets had their way of ambushing you during the quiet moments.
So six weeks ago, I’d seen an evening together as my do-over. We’d spent the night laughing and talking, reminiscing about times past. And in true Tobias style, he hadn’t disappointed in the bedroom. It had been a one-night stand to set things right.
Why did one-night stand sound so cheap and sleezy? Tobias was neither. He was handsome and caring. Witty and charismatic. Loyal and steadfast.
Our night had reminded me just how wonderful he was. And maybe he’d remembered too, that once I hadn’t been the villain. Once, I’d been the woman he’d loved, not the woman who’d broken his heart.
We’d had our second goodbye. The perfect goodbye. Yet here I was, knocked up and about to say hello.
“Oh, God.” My stomach roiled. Was it too soon for morning sickness?
I didn’t know shit about pregnancy. I didn’t know shit about babies. I didn’t know shit about being a mother. How was I supposed to raise a child when I couldn’t even traverse a sidewalk, ring a doorbell and spit out two words?
This was Tobias. It wasn’t like I was telling a stranger. He knew me, possibly too well, which made this terrifying.
There’d be no hiding my fears. No stalling the uncomfortable conversations. There’d be no raising my chin and pretending this was no sweat.
One step. Just take one little step.
I lifted a foot. And put it right back down in the snow print where it had been.
Maybe I could write him a note? My hands were shaking so badly I doubted I’d be able to hold a pen.
The pregnancy test was in the pocket of my red parka. Maybe I could just drop the pee stick by the door and make a break for it, like that teenage prank where kids put dog poo in a paper bag, lit it on fire, rang the doorbell and ran like their lives depended on it.
Not that I’d ever done that prank.
Being the getaway driver and waiting around the block for my friends didn’t count.
My chin began to quiver.
Why was this so hard? Why couldn’t I move?
Thank God, Tobias didn’t have neighbors. They probably would have called the cops on me by now.
Come to think of it . . . it was too bad he didn’t have neighbors. Because if the police showed up, I could just give them the pregnancy test and ask them to deliver the news.
Damn Tobias and his country house.
I’m pregnant.
Just two little words. One sentence. Say it, Eva. Just say it.
I opened my mouth.
Nothing. Just a puff of white air.
This trip was pointless. I should have stayed home and paced. After I’d missed my period, I’d started to worry, but as a self-proclaimed master-of-avoidance when it came to my personal problems, I’d dismissed it as stress.
Moving was always stressful, no matter how often I’d relocated, and I’d been busy gearing up for London. But avoidance could only last so long, and this week, when another day had passed without my cycle and my boobs felt as tender as my favorite medium-rare filet mignon, it had been time to face reality.
I’d gone to the nearest grocery store, picked up a pregnancy test, rushed through self-checkout and scurried home to pee.
The world had stopped spinning when the word pregnant had appeared in pink letters on that white stick. I’d clutched it to my chest while I’d sat on the bathroom floor for an hour. Then I’d paced.
An apartment void of all furniture gave a girl a lot of room for walking. So much so, that I’d paced for two hours. Then my feet had carried me to my car, which had led me here.
Whatever courage I’d had on the drive over had evaporated. And now I was stuck. I hadn’t been this stuck in years.
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Tears welled in my eyes. How was I supposed to do this? Not just tell Tobias, but what happened next? How was I going to be a mother?
I was seconds away from collapsing in the snow and giving in to a good cry when the door to his house whipped ope
n. And there he was, standing tall and broad, filling the threshold.
“Eva, what are you doing?”
I glanced at my feet.
“You’re standing there,” he answered for me.
I nodded.
“It’s been thirty minutes.”
That long, huh? Now it made sense why I was so cold.
“Are you going to knock?” he asked.
“I’m not sure yet.” I gave myself a little fist pump for actually verbalizing a thought. Progress. This was good. Words were good.
“It’s cold.”
“Yeah. You should go inside. I’m good here.”
“Eva.”
See? This was the problem with Tobias. He could look at me and know I was very, very not good.
“Come inside,” he ordered.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?” He stepped off his stoop and onto the sidewalk. His long strides ate up the distance between us, and when he stopped, he towered over me. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”
I shook my head. “I’m stuck.”
He blew out a long breath, then he fished my right hand from my coat pocket, cupping his fingers to mine so our thumbs were opposite. “One. Two. Three. Four. I declare a thumb war.”
I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t cry, then said the next words. “Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Try to keep your thumb straight.”
“I win, you come inside.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
“Shake.” He touched his thumb to mine, wiggling it up and down. Then he pinned my thumb beneath his because I didn’t put up a fight.
We both knew I needed him to be victorious.
This was how our thumb wars had usually gone. He’d instigate. I’d surrender.
And as he clasped my hand tighter, giving me one gentle tug, he unstuck my feet.
The warmth in the entryway was like stepping into a sauna after being outside for so long.
Tobias closed the door behind us. “Want me to take your coat?”
“No, thanks.” I stuffed my hand into the pocket again and wrapped a fist around the pregnancy test. Later, after I’d dropped the bomb, I’d tell him he’d better wash his hands.
“Would you like to sit?” he asked.
I lifted a shoulder in a noncommittal shrug.
Would he hate me for this? Maybe in the past six weeks, he’d found someone else. A woman he chose to have a baby with. That thought made my pulse pound behind my temples so I shoved it away.
“Eva.”
My throat had closed again.
He sighed and took my elbow, steering me toward the kitchen where he pulled out a stool for me to sit at the black quartz island. Then he rounded its corner and leaned against the far counter to wait.
He waited.
It was one thing I’d always loved about him. Tobias never rushed me. My sister would have gotten so annoyed by the silence that she would have given up outside in the snow. My father would have asked question after question, badgering me until I talked.
In my youth, I’d needed Dad to push me until I’d confessed how I was feeling. About school. About friends. About Mom. But I wasn’t a teenager anymore dealing with an absent parent and adolescent drama.
Tobias knew if he pushed, I’d crumble.
Why was I like this? At the moment, it wasn’t the most important question but it seemed to scream the loudest. At work, I never got stuck. Never. I always knew what to say. What to do. Which was possibly the reason I loved to work and dodge anything resembling a personal conversation.
Would our kid be patient like Tobias? That question sent my stomach into a tailspin. We were going to have a baby. Would he be mad if I puked on his fancy wood floors?
I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the nausea to pass. It did after a few deep breaths, and when I cracked my eyelids open, Tobias hadn’t moved. He stood stoically beside that farmhouse sink.
The light from the window at his back limned his broad frame. His hair was longer than it had been our night together. The dark strands were slightly damp and finger-combed, like he’d come from the shower not long ago. Tobias’s sculpted jaw was covered in a beard that went perfectly with the soft, buffalo-plaid flannel shirt molded to his muscled frame.
He looked like a sexy lumberjack.
“I like your beard.”
He nodded. “So you’ve said.”
Right. I’d told him that a few times six weeks ago, specifically when those bearded cheeks had been between my thighs.
That must have been before the condom broke and his sperm had freestyled through my vagina and into my fallopian tubes where one of them had dominated an egg.
Fucking sperm.
But hey, this could be worse. Tobias Holiday was a catch. He laughed often. His smile was as dazzling as the stars on a clear Montana night. Those blue eyes were like jewels, and they always shined especially bright when he was looking at me.
Or . . . they had once.
Now he was looking at me like I’d lost my mind.
Nope, just my menstrual cycle.
Speak, Eva. Say something. Anything. “Merry Christmas Eve.”
“Merry Christmas Eve.”
“Are you, um . . . doing anything?”
He nodded. “My parents’ annual holiday party is tonight.”
“On Christmas Eve?” I’d gone to that party many times but it had always been the week before Christmas.
“There was a scheduling conflict for last weekend.”
“Ah. Well, that’s always fun.”
“Should be a good time.”
I forced a shaky smile, then looked around the space, twisting to give him my back and hide the terror on my face.
Tobias’s home was no doubt something he’d designed himself. It reminded me of one of the drawings he’d done in college. We’d gone on dates and he’d sketch houses on napkins while we’d waited for our food.
He’d always wanted a place in the country where he didn’t have to worry about neighbors peering through his windows or the noise from constant traffic.
After years of bouncing from city to city, I’d probably go crazy out here alone.
“Eva.” Tobias’s deep voice had a slight rasp that always made my heart flip.
“Yes?” I stiffened.
“Will you turn around and look at me?”
I cringed but obeyed, turning just in time to see him push off the counter and come to the island, bracing his hands on the edge.
“What’s wrong?”
“H-how do you know something is wrong?”
He shot me a flat look. “Eva.”
It was unfair how well he knew me, even after all these years.
“I—” The sentence lodged in my throat.
“You’re scaring me.” The concern in his face broke my heart. “Is it your dad?”
I shook my head.
“Your sister?”
“No,” I whispered. “It’s . . .”
My hand tightened around the pregnancy stick so tightly, I worried it would crack. I closed my eyes again, squared my shoulders and did the first thing that came to mind.
I sang.
“On the third day of Christmas, my true love sent to me.”
Tobias had always loved it in college when I’d make up stupid songs in the shower. He’d sneak into the bathroom and sit on the toilet to listen. He’d often scared the hell out of me when I’d pulled back the curtain and there he’d been, those blue eyes dancing at my ridiculous lyrics.
“Eva, what the hell is—”
I held up a finger. “Three French hens. Two turtle doves.”
I opened my eyes, slid my hand out of my pocket and threw the stick at him.
Tobias snagged it from the air.
“And a partridge and a pregnancy.”
Chapter Two
Tobias