caring... and hoping.”

“You make it sound like a crime.”

“It kind of is.” She reached up and tugged on her cap, drawing it lower. Her voice dropped as well. “I’ve spent my adult life waiting for you, and it wasn’t until my mom died that I realized I was wasting my life, losing out on opportunities I might not ever have again. So I let the dream of you go so I could move forward. And I have. I’m going through my first round of ART right now and with any luck, should be pregnant in the new year.”

“What did you just say?”

“I’m using a donor and doing ART. Artificial reproductive technology—”

“I know what ART is. It’s frequently used for breeding bulls.”

“Oh, good. A lot of people don’t know—”

“But why?”

“I want to be a mom.”

“On your own?”

“My mom raised me on her own and we did fine.”

He felt as if he’d just gotten a good kick to the head because nothing she was saying made sense. “Who is going to be the dad?”

“I’ve found some good donors through the Bozeman fertility clinic.”

“Donors.”

“I’ve narrowed it down to three men. I just need to pick which one, but I’ve time. The procedure isn’t scheduled for a couple of weeks.”

He stared at her, dumbfounded. “What about men? You’ve just written them off? No more dating? No more relationships? No more sex?”

“I’m dating,” she answered.

“Does he—or they—know you’re trying to get pregnant?”

“I’m dating just one man right now and he does know. I’ve told him.”

“And?”

“He understands that if we get serious, he’s getting a package deal.”

“That’s crazy.”

“No more crazy than me chasing you all over the country because I wanted your baby.” She gave him a pointed look. “Because that was my brilliant, nonsensical plan. I wanted you to get me pregnant.”

For a split second he couldn’t think of a single thing to say, and then he exhaled. “Let me try to get this straight. You were coming to see me because you wanted my... sperm?”

Her jaw flexed, expression almost flinty. “Go ahead, laugh. Everyone else has.”

“I’m not laughing.” Rory was struggling to wrap his head around everything she’d told him. It was strange, and beyond unsettling. It also didn’t make sense. If she’d really wanted him to knock her up, she would have just slept with him right away. But she’d never tried to seduce him. She’d always kept her distance. “Why me?”

“I-I just thought you’d be the perfect... donor.”

His brow creased. “Darlin’, I didn’t even know your name.”

“I’m sure you bedded some of your buckle bunnies without knowing their names.”

“My buckle bunnies,” he repeated almost savagely, increasingly pissed off.

Color flooded her cheeks.