Hot Docs On Call: Tinseltown Cinderella. Lynne Marshall
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in his case cargo pants and work boots.
As he settled in next to her his larger-than-life maleness quickly filled up the space between them. Warmth suffused her entire body. Being this close to Joe, having access to gaze into those rich brown eyes, would definitely make it difficult to concentrate on today’s lesson.
“You’re next, Carey. Introduce yourself and your partner,” Gabriella said, emphasizing the partner part.
Joe hadn’t meant to put Carey on the spot, but after seeing the panic in her eyes earlier, when Gabriella had told her to be sure to bring her partner, he couldn’t let her go through this alone. At first he’d wanted to run like hell when he’d shown her the classroom. Coming here had brought back more awful memories. He and Angela had actually started this class before she’d moved out.
Feeling uneasy as hell when he’d dropped Carey off earlier, he’d gone back to his work station, but had soon found he’d been unable to concentrate on the job. His mind had kept drifting to Carey sitting here alone, feeling completely out of place, and he couldn’t stand for that to happen. Besides, wasn’t it time for him to move on? Determined to put his bad memories aside once and for all—his divorce hadn’t been his fault—he’d made a decision. She shouldn’t have to attend this class alone. If offering her support could ease her discomfort, he’d take the bullet for her and be her partner. The woman had been through enough on her own lately.
“Oh,” she said, as if she’d never expected to have to introduce herself, even though everyone else just had. “Um, I’m Carey Spencer, I’m a little over three months pregnant, I, uh, recently moved to California.” She swallowed nervously around the stretching of the truth. Joe reached for her hand beneath the table and squeezed it to give her confidence a boost. “I’m a nurse by profession, a first-time mother, and...” She looked at Joe, the earlier panic returning to those shimmering green eyes. He squeezed her hand again.
“I’m Joe Matthews,” he stepped in. “Carey’s friend. Good friend.” He glanced at her, seeing her squirm, letting it rub off on him a tiny bit. “A really close friend.” Overkill? He gazed around the room, having fudged the situation somewhat, and all the other couples watched expectantly. “We’ve been through a lot together, and we’re both really looking forward to taking this class and learning how to be good parents.”
Okay, let them think whatever they wanted. His statement was mostly true—in fact, it was ninety-nine per cent true, except for the bit about being “really close” friends, though they had been through a lot together already. Oh, and the part about him ever getting to be a parent. Yeah, that would never happen. The reality hit like a sucker punch and he nearly winced with pain. Why the hell had he willingly walked into this room again? Carey’s cool, thin fingers clasped his hand beneath the table, just as he’d done to support her a few seconds ago. The gesture helped him past the stutter in thought.
He’d come here today for Carey. She needed to catch a break, and he’d promised the night he’d found her in the alley that he’d look out for her. If she needed a partner for the parenting class then, damn it, he’d be here.
“I’m a paramedic here at the clinic, so if I ever need to deliver a baby on a run, I figure this class will be good for that, too.” He got the laugh he was hoping for to relieve his mounting tension as the room reacted. “It’s a win-win situation, right?”
He shifted his eyes to the woman to his left. If taking this class together meant having to really open up about themselves, well, he was bound to let her down because he was far, far from ready to talk about it.
Carey didn’t know squat about his past, and if he had his way, she never would. Why humiliate himself again, this time in front of a woman he was quickly growing attached to, when once had already been enough for a lifetime?
ON THE SATURDAY after the next Parentcraft class, Carey stood in the kitchen, using her second-trimester menu planner for dinner preparation. She’d had to stretch her usual eating routine to include items she’d never have been caught dead eating before. Like anchovies! Why was Gabriella so big on anchovies? Obviously they were high in calcium and other important minerals, plus loaded with omega three and six fatty acids, but Carey didn’t think they tasted so great and smelled really bad. Carey practically had to hold her nose to eat them.
Fortunately this Saturday-night menu included salmon—yay, more omega fats—which Joe was dutifully grilling outside on a cedar plank. Dutiful, yeah, that was the right word for Joe. Everything he did for her seemed to be done out of duty. Sure, he was nice and considerate, but she never sensed he was completely relaxed around her.
She diligently steamed the broccoli and zucchini, and in another pot boiled some new red potatoes, grateful that Joe seemed okay to eat whatever she did. So far she’d managed to keep her occasional junk-food binges to herself. Nothing major, just items that had definitely been left off the Gabriella-approved dietary plan for a pregnant lady, like sea salt and malt vinegar potato chips, or blue corn chips, or, well, actually, any kind of chip that she could get her hands on. She rationalized that if occasionally she only bought the small luncheon-sized bags she wouldn’t do the baby any harm. Or her hips.
Her weight gain was right on target, and when she’d seen Gabriella in clinic for a prenatal checkup, thanks to Dr. Rothsberg, she’d complimented her on how well she was carrying the baby. The ultrasound had been the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, and the first person she’d wanted to share it with had been Joe, and since he’d brought her to the appointment, once she’d dressed she’d invited him back into the examination room. He’d oohed and aahed right along with her, but she’d sensed a part of him had remained safely detached. She could understand why—he was a guy and it wasn’t his baby.
It made sense...yet he’d gotten all watery-eyed that day in the clinic when she’d found out her baby was okay, and he’d made that remark that one time about knowing how life-changing a baby could be. She’d asked him point blank if he was a father, but he’d said no and had powered right on. What had that been about? Heck, she’d only just recently found out how old he was, and the only thing she knew beyond that, besides he had a big, kind family, was that he was divorced.
The thing that kept eating away at her thoughts was that Joe didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d give up on a marriage.
Carey popped the top from another beer can and carried it outside to Joe. Being so involved together in the parenting class had definitely changed their relationship for the better, yet she knew Joe held back. She’d opened up about Ross in the hope of getting Joe to share whatever it was that kept him frequently tense and withdrawn.
At first she’d written off that always-present slow simmer just beneath the surface as being due to his demanding job as a paramedic, and also the fact he ran the business. But he clearly thrived on being in charge. It was obvious he loved the challenge. No, that wasn’t the problem, it was when they were in the house together, her occasionally indulging in baby talk to her stomach, or discussing the latest information from the Parentcraft classes that she noticed him mentally slip into another time and place. Granted, another person’s pregnancy wasn’t exactly riveting to the average person, but Joe had volunteered to attend the class with her. If it was an issue, why had he signed on?
Now outside, she smiled and handed him a second beer. “Ready for another?”
His brows rose. “Sure. Thanks.” As he took it, their eyes met and held, and a little zing shot through her. The usual whenever they looked straight at each other.
She turned and headed back toward the kitchen, feeling distracted and desperately trying to stay on task.
“You trying to get me drunk?”
“Maybe.” She playfully tossed the word over her shoulder then ducked inside before he could respond.
Tonight was the night she hoped to get him to open up. If she had to ply him with beer to do it, she