Читать книгу The Pregnant Bride - Crystal Green, Crystal Green - Страница 11

M eg tried her best to stop shivering, but she couldn’t.

Nick Cassidy, here again. She hadn’t seen him since she was twelve, running around exploring abandoned houses with him, hiking along the length of train tracks to see where they led.

She pushed through the swinging door that led to the back of the bakery. There, she started to gather ingredients for some of her infamous chocolate cakes. Anything to keep her mind off Nick’s return to Kane’s Crossing.

She looked through the steam-shrouded window, catching a shape just outside.

Nick. Her gaze took a leisurely stroll over him—one she’d been too stunned to enjoy earlier.

He cast a long shadow in the dusty, autumn-leaf-strewn street, his black sunglasses barricading a gaze that seemed to be trained on the sign above her bakery’s rear entrance. Under the dark brown leather jacket that matched his scuffed cowboy boots, a flannel shirt flapped in the breeze, covering broad shoulders and a wide chest. In spite of all this darkness, he had hair the color of shaded wheat—earthy, begging for a hand to skim through its bounty. The ends curled up, as if in need of a good trim.

Most acutely of all, Meg again noticed his faded blue jeans, how he wore them like a badge of apathy, obviously not concerned that the raggedy hole allowed her a taunting peek of one tanned knee. The patch of skin against the threadbare denim nudged at Meg’s imagination. It was a chink in the rest of his armor—a heart-tugging flaw. She pictured herself sliding her hand into the frayed hole, running her thumb over his kneecap, skimming her fingers over the skin behind his knee.

He lowered his shaded gaze to meet hers, seemingly sensing her scrutiny. The black-ice mask of his sunglasses revealed no emotion. Meg pulled back from the window, her blood pounding so hard it crashed in her ears.

Nick backed up a step, then ambled down Main Street to disappear behind a red-and-blue Welcome Home, Chad banner that hung with a lopsided sneer between the side of the Mercantile Department Store and Darla’s Beauty Shop. He moved with the purpose of a gunslinger, slow and easy, with the sleekness of a knife’s edge.

Gone, from her life again, just like that.

She wondered what he wanted in a dinky one-horse town like Kane’s Crossing, what he wanted with Chad Spencer. If she didn’t have so much at stake here, she would’ve tipped her own hat to the place months ago. Before all the trouble. Before she’d made a complete and utter disaster of her life.

Meg sighed. Men in dark clothing with an equally dark posture—the stuff of fantasy. A safe flirtation locked inside her. Grown-up Nick had been a man to strike fear into every good-girl cell of Meg’s body, not that there were many of those left. She’d spent the last of her innocence five months ago and, yet, here she was, lesson unlearned, salivating over the hole in a man’s jeans.

Meg mixed the ingredients into a bowl, frustration making her stir a little too zealously. And if she was miffed by Nick’s return, Deacon Chaney would no doubt feel a million times worse. It was hard enough for the elderly man to live through all the slings and arrows of town without having to face the man who’d been accused of destroying his store sixteen years ago.

She was getting to be pretty good at shouldering the town’s gibes, as well. But the sharp-tongued speculation about who the father of her baby might be still smarted. And it scared her to death. If anyone found out who’d fathered her unborn child, she’d lose her expected family for certain.

But Meg wouldn’t let that happen.

What are you afraid of? she asked herself. Was she afraid her child would someday reject her, much like her own family had? Would she feel as much pain as she had when Aunt Valentine had died? Or would it be a dull ache, like she’d felt when the baby’s father had told her she hadn’t meant anything to him? That she’d be a memory once he’d left for the far corners of the world the next morning?

Chad Spencer will have no part of this child, she promised herself.

She’d die before that happened.

Two hours later Meg locked up the bakery and wrapped her sheepskin coat around her to ward off the autumn’s night chill. Fire smoke puffed from chimneys just off Main Street, making the air heavy with loneliness. When she got home, nobody would be there waiting for her. After Aunt Valentine had succumbed to a heart attack five months ago, Meg had realized that she’d probably be alone for the rest of her life. But then, she’d gotten pregnant, and she knew she’d always have someone, if Chad didn’t come back to town and claim the baby for himself.

Once again, Nick Cassidy entered her mind. What did he want with Chad?

She reached into her coat pocket, fisting the wad of twenties he’d flipped on the counter to pay for his barely touched coffee. It was enough to get her through a month or two of groceries. How did he come by so much money that he could afford to flick it around as if it were confetti?

Pride tapped her on the shoulder. She couldn’t keep this so-called tip. If she saw him again, she’d have to give it back.

If she saw him again.

Her body warmed just thinking about Nick. Boy, he’d grown up good. She’d always loved being with him, climbing trees, eating snowcones as they watched stream water ripple over their shoeless feet. The summers she’d visited Kane’s Crossing had been some of the best times of her life, but when Nick had come to live in town… Those had been the glory days.

He’d been gracious about allowing a pip-squeak like her to run around with him for a couple of months. Then again, he’d been “the new boy,” friendless. But they’d clicked automatically that day when Chad had been trying to lift her skirt with a stick. Nick had walked right up to him and defended her. No one else had done that before. He was her instant hero.

She’d returned the next summer, and they’d fallen into a daily groove together, experiencing everything Kane’s Crossing could offer two lonely kids.

But now… Now he was so different. Edged with bitterness, his eyes almost empty with disappointment.

Her body warmed with the very thought of his eyes, the way they’d roamed over her body with the heat of a falling star. Ever since he’d left the bakery, she’d wondered what it’d feel like to have his hands follow the paths his gaze had taken, to have his hands slip under her sweater, rub her skin, push her against his hard chest.

Stop it, Meg, she thought. It was no use. She’d never even see him again. The thought left an empty place inside her. If only they could’ve been friends again. She was in need of someone to talk to.

She shivered and started walking past the closed boutiques and stores that lined the street, Halloween colors trimming the displays. As she passed the barbershop, she held back a wave of nausea. A picture of Chad in his high school football uniform graced the window, his slick smile adding to the image of blond perfection.

How could she have been that stupid?

She was so lost in thought that she’d all but ignored the sound of footsteps behind her. Meg clutched at her coat and purse, ready to belt whomever was trailing her.

One, two, three—

As she whipped around, purse flying, Gary Joanson jumped away from her.

“Ah! Wait, Meg!”

She stood, legs apart, ready to defend herself. “What do you want, Gary? Didn’t you and your friends hurl enough insults at me this afternoon?”

He hung his head. “Sorry about that. You know how Sonny and Junior get when they’ve been drinking.”

Yes, she knew. She’d experienced the lash of their taunts several times over. “What do you want?”

“Well, you closed up shop before I could catch you there.” Shuffle. “I was just wondering if you could fix the missus one of your baby cakes?”

The urge to roll her eyes consumed her. “Gary, I’ve told you guys—”

“I know. But she believes all that hooey about your spells and magic. She says Valentine passed on her witch skills to you, Meg. And last time Jemma Carson ate one of your baby cakes, she got pregnant the next week. Just like Judy Henry and Sheri Duarte and…”

The list went on. Somehow the good people of Kane’s Crossing had gotten it into their heads that she had a magic touch. Eat one of her blueberry pies, and you’d find a boyfriend. Eat a simple chocolate cake baked by her supernatural hands, and you’d become pregnant within the month. Kane’s Crossing didn’t like her much, but they sure held great respect for her eerie baking skills. And Meg took advantage of the awe. It was the only way she made money, besides the tourists.

“Okay, Gary. I’ll make one tomorrow. May I go home now?”

At the mention of her “house on haunted hill,” Gary’s eyes bulged. Meg was the only one in town who didn’t feel the need to cross herself as she walked past, what with its thunderous gables and legendary widow’s walk. Even the windows looked like eyes watching the town with contempt.

“Thank you, Meg. Sure I can’t walk you—” he gulped “—home?”

“I’m fine.”

He scampered out of sight. Silly, henpecked man. Gary Joanson had always been a follower, never standing up to Chad’s antics.

Maybe she could bake a pie and tell him it made one grow a backbone. He’d probably believe it, as would his fuss-budget wife.

A low voice startled her. “Have you been slipping mickies to this town?”

She turned around, fingers spread over her heart. “I thought you’d left.”

Nick Cassidy ambled into the circle of light made by a street lamp, thumbs resting in his belt loops. Her heart beat double time, punching her chest with a voodoo cadence.

Yeah, he’d grown up good. Her gaze strayed to the hole in his jeans.

“I walked around, took another look at my old home.” His eyes were eclipsed by some dark memory. “Did some more thinking.”

She must’ve been trembling something awful, because he reached out, fingers twining around her coat collar, and he pulled the material closer together. She flinched, unsure of what his intentions were, but all he did was smile a little. It transformed his face, as if a ray of light had suffused his soul. Just as quickly, the image vanished.

She grinned, warming at his proximity. He was watching out for her again, just as he’d done when they were kids. The thought twisted her heart around.

“What did you think about?” She almost regretted asking, wondering if the question would push him away once again.

“Everything. Mostly my reasons for coming to Kane’s Crossing.” He paused. “Do you walk home by yourself every night?”

“Sometimes my friend Rachel drives me. You wouldn’t know her since she moved into town about two years ago.” Meg laughed. “She hasn’t had time to develop a fear of me yet.”

They started walking, matching each other step for step, the sound of his booted feet shooting off the whitewashed buildings. It almost seemed as if he were aiming bullets into the sky, announcing his presence.

Meg reveled in his nearness, in the way she came just to above his shoulder, in the way he smelled of leather. She couldn’t believe she was walking with Nick Cassidy again, but, instead of feeling like a best friend, she felt entirely different. What would he do if she wrapped an arm around his lean waist, held him to her, stood on tiptoe to bury her nose in the crook of his shoulder and neck?

She passed a hand over her belly. It’d never happen, especially after Chad’s treatment of her.

He spoke first, a cloud of air trailing from his lips because of the crisp weather. “When I came back here, I didn’t expect to find you. I thought you’d be back in San Diego.”

Thank goodness he was talking to her again. Really talking. Not using monosyllabic words as he had in the bakery. She tried to smile and failed. “I can’t go back there.”

“Don’t your parents live on the coast?”

She couldn’t bring herself to talk about her parents, the pain, the agony of what she’d done to be kicked out of the house at the age of fourteen. It’d been something so horrible that she woke up with nightmares even now.

She absently touched her belly, the life within. “Yes, they do. I suppose. I’ve lived with Aunt Valentine since shortly after you left…” She hesitated, hoping he’d elaborate on that fateful night at Chaney’s Drugstore. She wasn’t really surprised when he kept his silence. Well, at least she’d tried.

“After Aunt Valentine passed on, she left everything to me. And I decided to stay here.”

“I’m sorry to hear she’s gone. Valentine was great.”

Meg couldn’t hold back a smile. “Remember how she’d invite you over for dinner and, ‘Oh, by the way, would you weed my garden, Nick, dear?’”

“I was a sucker for her pot roast at any cost.” Nick chuckled, sending waves of contentment through Meg’s body. She stiffened, fighting the warmth, making sure she didn’t give him an opportunity to hurt her.

They’d left the lights of Main Street and had turned onto the dirt road that led past the graveyard and toward Meg’s home. Hovering over the stark, white tombstones, the shape of the house on the hill was visible even in the dark. It loomed with the profile of a sorcerer’s hat topping a bald head. No wonder all the kids told scary stories about her and Aunt Valentine.

She saw a pale object stretching along the side of the road. When she went over to investigate, Nick grabbed her hand. The contact sent a shock wave up her arm, the zing shivering into her lower stomach.

“What’re you doing?” she asked, breathless.

He let go of her, as if he’d touched a live electrical wire. “You’ve got to be careful, Meggie. You can’t go traipsing into ditches.”

“We knocked-up damsels are pretty much able to make our own decisions.” She lifted her chin into the air, watching Nick from the corner of her eye. “Whether they’re good or bad.”

He was grinning again, for heaven’s sake. She hadn’t been sure she could get another one out of him.

He used the advantage of his long legs to move ahead of her, and she stood back, as he lifted the object.

Clouds uncovered the moon as he spread it wide. “We miss you, Chad” was painted in red and blue lettering. One of those darn banners the ladies’ auxiliary had been hanging all over town. She wondered if the wind had blown this particular sign away from Main Street, or if someone felt as strongly about Chad as she did, tearing down the banner and tossing it into what Nick would’ve called a “ditch.”

Nick stared at it a moment, then crumpled it to the ground, stepping on it as he clutched her hand again. His grip almost smashed her finger bones.

“That hurts,” she said, keeping her voice as level as possible.

He glanced at her hand, lifted it, and ran his fingers over hers. Meg almost melted to the dirt with a rush of liquid heat.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice purring down her skin. Then, he patted her hand as if she were a five-year-old. They started walking again.

“Why are those signs all over town?” he asked.

She sighed heavily. Chad again. “Chad went to Europe in order to learn part of the family trade. A branch of the illustrious Spencer family runs several banks over there, and he’s learning from the best. I guess they want to expand the bank business once he returns to the States.” There. She’d said it without tripping over her words, without letting on that Chad had ripped out her heart.

Nick seemed to know anyway. He stopped their progress, taking her shoulders into his hands, watching her carefully, his mouth set in a line. He seemed like a shadow, so tall, mysterious, intimidating. She swallowed, the sound much too obvious over his silence.

He ran his index finger under her chin, cuffing it playfully. Meg wanted to grab him right there and then, giving in to the promise of her afternoon fantasy. Darn pregnancy hormones.

He said, “I have a bad feeling that King of the World hurt you, Meggie.”

Moonlight. His low, pint-of-whiskey voice. His shadow lingering over her. It was all enough to make her want to run away because he’d changed so much. Changed into something she couldn’t ever hope to have in her life.

“No, you’re wrong,” she said, hoping she sounded as airy as she had when she used to dress like a rock-and-roll Gypsy girl.

He settled his hands on her upper arms, cupping them, leaving her weak. She could tell by the tone of his voice that he’d gone on to a more serious subject. “I don’t live here, so trust me. Spencer’s the father. Am I wrong?”

“Yes. I mean, yes, you’re wrong,” she lied.

She hadn’t fooled him, judging by his hangdog look of disappointment. “I knew it.”

He knew. All the work she’d gone through to hide it, and he’d guessed her secret right off the bat. She’d never confirmed the rumors in town about her baby. For all the people of Kane’s Crossing knew, she’d gotten pregnant when she’d gone upstate to settle Aunt Valentine’s estate five months ago. But she knew better. Obviously Nick knew better, too.

A black look crossed over his face, and her heart seemed to stop from the intensity of it. He took a couple of steps back, away from her.

“Don’t look so sad. We’re going to make things right.”

She shook her head. “No one can know the truth, Nick. When Chad comes back to town, I’m afraid he’ll want my baby.” She choked, thinking about what she’d done to get kicked out of her parents’ house. If Chad were to discover her ineptitude, he’d pounce all over her, maybe even drag her through a custody battle. She’d lose her baby for certain.

“He’d never marry me—the witch who lives on haunted hill. What if he took my baby, and I never saw my child again? You know he can do it. His family has so much money and power…”

“Get out of town.”

“And where would I go? Not back to San Diego, to my parents, you can be sure of that. I’ve got nowhere, Nick. Everything I own is here.”

“Sell the house.”

If only she could. “That place has been in my family since eighteen sixty-two. I promised Aunt Valentine before she died that I’d never sell it.” She laughed. “I’m between a rock and a hard place. Do you understand?”

Nick ran a hand through his hair. Was he nervous about something?

“Nick?”

He cleared his throat, looking so lost in the middle of a town that hated him. The sight made her want to hold him and never let go.

“Meggie, you can give your child a name. It’s the only solution.”

There was no solution as far as she was concerned. “Thanks for the optimism, but I have no idea what to do.”

He took a deep breath. “You can marry me.”