Remember Me, Cowboy. C.J. Carmichael
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was good to see you again, Laurel.” Corb had been carrying his hat. Now he settled it on his head, preparing to leave, but for some reason, not heading for his Jeep.
Laurel couldn’t answer. Since she’d stood up, her stomach had not been happy. Now it was threatening to heave the contents of her water glass all over the front sidewalk.
The feeling would pass. It always did. She put a hand on her stomach. Closed her eyes. Please...
But the feeling didn’t go away. In fact, it grew worse.
She needed a restroom. Now.
Cupping a hand over her mouth, she raced back inside, desperate to make it in time. Behind her, Corb called, “Are you okay?”
No. She sure wasn’t.
* * *
CORB DIDN’T KNOW what to do. He couldn’t just drive away without making sure Laurel was all right. Tentatively, he headed back inside the café and stuck his head down the short hallway that led to the restroom. He could hear retching on the other side of the closed door.
Jeez. That didn’t sound good.
He waited for the noise to subside, then called out, “Can I get you anything?”
“I have everything I need here. Fresh water. Towels. A solid door between us so you can’t see how embarrassed I am.”
He grinned, glad that she wasn’t so ill she had lost her sense of humor. There was the sound of flushing. Then her voice again, from behind the closed door. “You can go now. I’m fine.”
“Hey now. No need to be embarrassed. If I worked in this place, I’d overdose on cinnamon buns, too.”
“Ugh.” Water splashed from the sink, a few seconds passed, then the door opened and a pale-faced Laurel stepped out. “Sorry about that.”
His smile vanished as soon as he saw her. Despite her flippant commentary, she was obviously ill. “You look like hell. You’d better lie down.”
“I will.” She glanced pointedly at the door. “After I lock up behind you.”
“I’m not sure you should be left alone.”
“Believe me, I’m fine. I’ve had this bug for a few weeks now.”
“That’s a long time to have the flu. Have you seen a doctor?”
She gave him the oddest look. Then her face went superpale again. She put a hand to the wall, balancing herself.
He immediately sprang forward, placing his arm around her shoulders. “Maybe I should drive you to the clinic in Lewistown right now.”
“No. No. That isn’t necessary. I’ll just head upstairs and lie down.”
She didn’t say anything more about shooing him out the door Corb noticed. So he stayed right behind her as she climbed the stairs that led to Winnie’s apartment above the café. He could see right away that Laurel had been sleeping on the pullout couch in the sitting room. Sheets were folded on the chair beside the couch and a pillow with a white cover laid on top.
“I’ll make up the bed for you.”
Laurel didn’t turn down his offer, just collapsed into a second chair, looking pretty much like death warmed over. What was wrong with her?
Quickly he removed the top cushions, pulled out the bed, then put on the sheets.
“You make a cute housemaid,” Laurel commented.
She couldn’t be too sick if she was still making wisecracks.
“Yeah, but I don’t do windows.” He tossed the pillow on the bed, then pointed at her. “Lie down.”
Obediently as Cassidy’s old border collie, Laurel did as told, only pausing to kick off her sandals before sinking gratefully onto the bed.
“Good girl,” he said. “I’ll get you some water.”
“Woof, woof.”
He laughed, then gave her a quizzical look. Funny how she almost seemed to be able to read his mind at times. He went to the small galley kitchen and found a glass on the draining board which he filled with cold water from the tap.
“Anything else you want while I’m in here? Crackers or something?”
“Water is fine.”
He handed her the glass then watched as she took a careful sip. Even though she was sick and pale, she still looked pretty. The freckles dusting her slender nose was just about the cutest thing he’d ever seen. He had an odd sensation of déjà vu, then realized he’d probably admired her freckles when they were dancing. Holding her in his arms, standing a good six inches taller than her, he would have had a perfect view of them.
“Was it a slow dance?” he asked.
She didn’t meet his eyes. “Yes.”
“I thought so.”
Her lashes flew up as she looked at him. “You remember?”
“Just your freckles.” He had the strangest urge to lean over the bed and kiss them. Once the freckles had been taken care of, he’d move to those rose-petal lips of hers. Why was it redheads always had the most kissable mouths?
Not that he’d dated so many redheads in his life. In fact—Laurel was pretty much the first.
This woman. She had a pretty strong effect on him. He’d better get out of here before he said or did something really stupid.
“If you’re okay, I guess I’ll be going.”
“I’m fine,” she assured him.
“Don’t worry about locking up behind me. Coffee Creek is a safe sort of place.”
“Really?” Laurel said softly. “Could have fooled me.”
* * *
“I’M NOT GOING to be able to tell him, Winnie. I just can’t.”
Fifteen minutes after Corb left the apartment, when she was sure her stomach had settled enough that she wouldn’t be sick again, Laurel had called her friend.
For the past two months all her focus had been on helping Winnie.
But now she was the one who needed help.
And, as usual, Winnie didn’t let her down.
“Okay, let’s say you don’t tell him. What are your options?”
“I—I’m not sure.”
“Well, how about this? Abortion.”
Laurel’s answer was instinctive. “No way.”
“Fine then. Option two—you have the baby and give it up for adoption.”
“No way.” That answer had come out of nowhere, too, and Laurel was surprised at how sure she felt about it. She had been adopted by her parents, and she’d always wondered about her biological mother and father. Why had they given her up? She’d sworn that she would never do the same thing, no matter how dire her circumstances.
Well, these circumstances were pretty dire, but at least she was twenty-six, not sixteen as her own birth mother had been.
“Well, then. That leaves only one alternative. You’re going to have a baby, Laurel. Just like me. We can be single mothers together. We’ll be like a same-sex couple except for the sex part.”
Reluctantly Laurel laughed. In some ways the picture Winnie was painting was almost appealing. But there was one big problem with it. “I’m not moving to Coffee Creek.”
“Oh, I know. I was just teasing. But isn’t it a good thing you got that job promotion? The extra money is bound to come in handy now.”
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