Her Secret, His Baby. Tanya Michaels
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detailed dreams that made her blush the next morning. One of the more anecdotal pregnancy books had mentioned the phenomenon, and the author advised women to enjoy the perk. But it was disquieting to experience that surge of lust in front of Garrett.
She yanked her hand out of his. When his expression grew even stormier, she tried to mitigate her action with a lame explanation. “I, ah, need to get my keys.” As she unlocked the front door, her stomach emitted an embarrassing rumble. Hunger ran a close second to exhaustion.
“I’m starving,” he commented. “Didn’t get around to eating lunch today.”
“Me neither.”
“Let’s get you situated and decide on a plan for food. Maybe I can whip up something for dinner.”
“I don’t know about that.” She stepped inside, flashing a sheepish glance over her shoulder. “My grocery shopping got cut short the other day. The kitchen’s not fully stocked.”
Should she mention the nearby pizza place that delivered? Would she be able to sit through a meal in Garrett’s presence, or would nerves keep her from eating? She appreciated how civil he was being, but the friction between them was as pointed as it had been when he strode into her office today. She was too drained to withstand much more.
Needing to get off her feet before she fell off them, she made a beeline for the ratty armchair she’d found at a rummage sale years ago. She’d had it steam-cleaned with the distant plan of someday reupholstering. Since she’d never gotten around to that part, the chair looked like blue-plaid hell, but it was inexplicably comfortable.
Garrett was slow to follow. After a moment, she realized he was examining the framed pictures on her wall.
“Did you take all of these?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Portraits of Justin and Colin were scattered among a jumble of other subjects, from a black-and-white shot of a stone well to a close-up of a light purple dahlia bud in midbloom. There was a landscape photo taking up too much space; she’d squeezed it in to replace the family picture of Colin with his wife and son that had been exiled to temporary storage in her closet.
“You’re very talented,” Garrett said. “Darcy and Hugh showed me their wedding album. They were thrilled with your work.”
She swallowed, briefly closing her eyes. “Do they know about the baby?” Had Garrett told them about how she’d jumped into bed with him, shared his suspicions that this baby was his? Lord, what they must think of her. “I mean, of course they know I’m pregnant, I’ve seen them in town. But do they know...?”
“That I’m a daddy? How the hell could I have told them when I didn’t even know?” he exploded. He began pacing, not that there was much more space here than he’d had in the hospital room. In a slightly calmer voice, he asked, “Does the idea of anyone knowing we were together bother you so much? I’ve never felt like a woman’s dirty secret before.”
“It’s not like that,” she said miserably. “It has nothing to do with you.” She recalled the pitying looks her teachers had given her after her father died, the local news stories after Natalie’s crash. She hated for anyone to have reason to talk about her and her family. But Garrett shouldn’t be penalized for her hang-ups.
He rubbed his temple absently. “It’s not as if your neighbors are gonna buy that the stork brought the baby. So who cares if they know it was me?”
“I’m handling this badly.” She sighed. “I’ve never...I’m pretty inexperienced.”
“You mean because you’re a first-time mom?”
“Inexperienced with men. And, um, sex in general.” At his startled look, she added, “I’d had sex before—just, infrequently. And only with long-term boyfriends I knew really, really well. I’m not ashamed of what happened between us. I’m just at a loss for... If I say ‘I’m sorry’ again, are you going to yell?”
His sudden grin was so unexpected and striking that it made her knees weak. Thank God I’m already sitting.
“No yelling,” he promised.
“Thank you. I am sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing.” There were manuals and chat rooms, even documentary-style television shows that revolved around pregnancy and birth. But none of them had outlined the protocol for how to weather whispered rumors, or break the news to appalled, overprotective brothers or how to cope with the gorgeous one-night stand you’d never expected to see again.
His smile faded. “If you’d told me the truth, maybe we could have figured it out together. For the record, since you broached the subject today, there’s no girlfriend, serious or otherwise.”
The declaration warmed her far more than it should have. Not because I’m interested in him romantically, but because I’d hate to complicate a third person’s life with all of this.
“Based on what Hugh said, can I safely assume there’s no guy in the picture?” he asked.
She almost laughed at the suggestion that she was dating anyone. How many men fantasized about meeting a gal who barfed for months on end, then began steadily swelling to the size of a beluga? The hint of vulnerability that flickered in Garrett’s gaze sobered her. Did he worry that someone else was poised to play the role of father to his child?
“No guy,” she said softly. Except you.
His tense shoulders lowered the merest fraction of an inch. There was relief and something less definable in his eyes. Possessiveness? Awareness sizzled through Arden, replacing her earlier lethargy with something more energetic. And far more complicated. Her voice caught in her throat.
Changing the subject, he clapped his palms together. “Point me in the direction of the kitchen. I’ll check out the dinner options.”
“I wasn’t kidding about rations being low.” She used the arms of the chair to hoist herself upward. “But I think we can manage salad and some grilled cheese sandwiches.”
As someone who lived alone, she wasn’t used to anyone else puttering around in her kitchen. Letting him wait on her would just be too weird. “Can I offer you something to drink? I don’t have any sodas or beer, but there’s lemonade or filtered water. I could brew some tea.”
“Lemonade sounds great.” He trailed her into the kitchen.
“I’ll get glasses. Lemonade’s in the fridge,” she directed. “And there should be some fruit salad left.”
He turned to the refrigerator but stopped when he caught sight of the sonogram photos secured with promotional magnets from the Donnelly ski lodge. The first picture was from so early in the pregnancy that the baby was a mere peanut-shaped blip; a circle the doctor had drawn in ink showed where the heart was. But the other pictures were from a recent appointment. It was easy to make out the baby’s head and profile.
“So, um, that’s the little guy. Figuratively speaking,” she clarified. “I have no idea what the gender is. I’ve decided to be surprised.” She’d had trouble explaining her decision to friends and family, but there had been enough ugly surprises in Arden’s life. Why not revel in one that was wonderful? “I’ve been calling the baby Peanut since I’m not sure what pronoun to use.”
Garrett traced his thumb lightly over the edge of a photo. “These are amazing. To have such a clear look at someone who’s not even... I’ve looked at bovine sonograms, but this—”
“Did you just compare pictures of our unborn child to those of cows?” she interrupted with mock indignation. Reaching around him, she pulled butter and cheese from the refrigerator.
He shrugged. “Hey, it’s the life I know. Sleep with a cowboy, you gotta expect the occasional livestock mention.”
“Good to know. I’ll keep that...” In mind for next time. The thoughtless words evaporated from her lips. Next time? With whom?