The Bachelor's Little Bonus. GINA WILKINS
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She should know by now that he didn’t say things he didn’t mean.
Her smile was sweetly tremulous. “Thank you, Cole. For the dinner, for letting me cry all over you, for being such a good friend. And now I really am going to leave so you can rest.”
A good friend. He could be that for her.
He wasn’t entirely sure she should be alone in her agitated mood, but he figured she would decline if he tried again to detain her. So he merely nodded and said, “I’ll walk you home.”
Tossing the crumpled paper towel into the trash, she glanced over her shoulder with a lifted eyebrow. “Since when do you need to walk me next door?”
“Since there’s ice all over the walkway and you’re pregnant,” he replied bluntly. “I want to make sure you don’t fall.”
“It’s not necessary, but I can see you’re going to insist.” Her smile looked a bit more natural now, though still not the high-wattage grin he associated with her.
With a faint smile in return, he nodded. “You’re right. I am.”
Minutes later, bundled into their coats, they walked out into what amounted to an Arkansas blizzard. Snow fell so hard he could hardly see Stevie’s white house on the big corner lot next door. The ground was already covered and no cars drove down the street, most of the locals having taken the advice of forecasters and burrowed safely into their homes for the night.
It wouldn’t stay this peaceful, of course. He’d bet the generally well-behaved but exuberant Bristol kids across the street would be out playing in the snow as soon as their mom gave them permission. Snow days were always a rare treat around here, even though they proved a headache for road crews and first responders.
He kept his gaze trained on Stevie as they stepped off his porch. Her disposition changed the moment they moved out into the winter storm. She couldn’t seem to resist turning her face up to let the snow fall against her cheeks. The security lamps above them provided just enough light for Cole to see the white flakes glittering on her skin and in her golden curls. With her signature musical laugh, she held out her arms and turned in a little circle, her shoes crunching on the thin layer of ice beneath the accumulating snow. Bemused by her mercurial mood shifts, and well aware they had more to do with her unique personality than to fluctuating hormones, he chuckled and caught her arm to make sure she didn’t fall.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” she asked with a sigh, wrapping her hands around his arm and smiling companionably up at him.
“Very.”
Her lashes fluttered, though he wasn’t sure whether that was due to the snow or his husky tone. He cleared his throat. He must be more tired than he’d realized, or more shaken than he’d have expected by Stevie’s bombshell. Whatever the reason, he found himself wanting to prolong this cozy walk in the snowy night with Stevie tucked close to his side, breath clouds mingling and drifting in the air in front of them. For the second time in just over an hour, he felt almost as if he’d stepped into one of his private fantasies. He was glad mind reading wasn’t among Stevie McLane’s many talents. He wasn’t sure how she’d react to knowing that just watching her catching a snowflake on her tongue sent his imagination down a path much more hazardous than the one on which they walked.
Burying those uncomfortable thoughts deep inside his mind, he made an effort to keep his expression blandly friendly until they were on her small porch. She unlocked the front door she’d painted bright blue to match the shutters. One hand on the knob, she smiled up at him. “Okay, I’m safely home. You can relax.”
He searched her face in the soft glow of her porch light. “You’re sure you’re okay? If you need anything else this evening, even if just to talk more, I’m available.”
In a gesture that was both impulsive and entirely characteristic, she wrapped her arms around his waist for a hug. “Thank you,” she said. “You’re a very nice man, Cole McKellar.”
A very nice man. As flattering as her comments were, they were hardly the words she’d have whispered in one of those steamy daydreams. Giving himself a mental slap, he returned his friend’s hug with a brief squeeze before stepping back. “Good night, Stevie. Call if you need me.”
She opened her door. “Good night, Cole.”
He stepped down from the little porch into the falling snow, which was already hiding the footprints they’d left on the way. He’d taken only a step when something made him turn back around. “Stevie?”
She paused in the act of closing the door. “Yes?”
“You aren’t alone.”
With that blurted promise, he turned and headed home, his head down, his fists shoved into the pockets of his coat. He’d taken quite a few steps by the time he heard Stevie close her door.
Stevie woke late Saturday morning feeling more positive than she had since she first suspected she was pregnant. She wandered to her bedroom window to look over an expanse of glittering snow toward Cole’s house. Simply sharing her predicament with him last night had seemed to take a load off her shoulders.
You aren’t alone. She could still hear the echo of his deep voice. The words had lulled her to sleep last night, and were still drifting through her mind when she’d awakened. She couldn’t begin to express how much it had meant to her to hear them.
Cole was such a great guy. Quiet, but with his own sly sense of humor. Fascinatingly intelligent, in a math-ish sort of way. And completely nonjudgmental, a particularly appealing trait at the moment.
A habitual matchmaker for her friends, she’d occasionally tried to think of someone who’d be a good match for this supernice man, but for some reason she could never come up with anyone who seemed just right for him. A secret part of her had acknowledged on occasion that she’d selfishly wanted to keep him to herself. She had pushed that unsettling voice aside, reminding herself that she’d been in no position to make a play for Cole even if he’d encouraged her.
She wasn’t even sure he’d dated seriously in the year she’d known him, though he went out sometimes in the evenings, casually alluding to gatherings with friends. He didn’t talk about his late wife much, but on those rare occasions his face warmed and softened. She could tell he had truly loved her. Natasha had been gone for several years, but maybe he still mourned her too deeply to be interested in a new relationship. It was hard to be sure with Cole. He tended to keep his deepest emotions to himself.
It made her sad to think of him still grieving, unwilling or unable to fall in love again. Only because he was her friend and she wanted all her friends to be happy, she assured herself. Still, he seemed content with his home, a job he enjoyed and the friends she hadn’t met, so maybe that was enough for him.
She dressed in jeans and a multicolored sweater with colorfully striped knee socks, figuring she’d be out in the cold at some point. As had been her habit the past couple weeks, she turned sideways in front of the mirror to check her figure. Her jeans were getting a little snug in the waist and her bras were a bit tight on her already-generous bustline, but she doubted even her closest friends would be able to guess her condition by looking at her.
She must tell Tess and Jenny soon. She felt incredibly guilty that she hadn’t already, even more than not having told her mother and brother. Her two closest friends would forgive her, would even understand why she’d kept her secret for so long, but she wouldn’t blame them if they were a bit hurt, at least at first. Especially Jenny, who’d been her best friend since their school days. They’d met Tess almost two years ago and they’d been a tight trio ever since, though they couldn’t spend quite as much time together now that Jenny was married and Tess was busily planning a June wedding.
Being human, after all, and the most unabashedly romantic of the small group, Stevie couldn’t