Читать книгу Wilder Hearts: Once Upon a Pregnancy - RaeAnne Thayne, Judy Duarte - Страница 12

Late Thursday morning, after Mike met with Leif’s sister and looked at a three-story Victorian-style home on Maple, he stopped by the New England Ranch Market. The trendy grocery store, a favorite of the locals, offered farm-fresh eggs, organic vegetables and an old-fashioned butcher shop that cut meat to order.

While pushing his cart through the aisles, he picked up a couple of chicken breasts, some red potatoes, fixings for a salad and the special ingredients needed for his killer vinaigrette dressing. Then, before heading to the checkout line, he stopped by the bakery section and picked up a lemon meringue pie—his favorite.

The guys in the department took turns with kitchen duty, and Mike, who’d had no experience cooking at all when he’d first been hired, had to ask his mom to teach him how to prepare some of his favorite family meals. He’d even picked up a few culinary tricks from some of his coworkers and, while not what you’d call a pro, he knew how to fix a decent spread.

Now, as he climbed from his Jeep Wrangler, Woofer barked at the fence. Mike had a feeling it was more of a “Welcome back” than a “Don’t even think about trespassing” announcement. Either way, little Wags followed suit.

It was kind of cool that the puppy had the watchdog lessons down pat. Too bad he wasn’t doing as well when it came to getting housebroken.

Once on Simone’s front porch, Mike shuffled the two grocery bags he held in his arms so he could ring the bell. He hoped Simone was okay with what he planned to do.

He had a key, so he could let himself in, but Simone wasn’t working today, and he didn’t want to overstep his boundaries.

She answered the door in her robe. Her hair was wrapped in a white towel turban, her scent powdery fresh with a hint of shampoo, soap and a citrusy body lotion that he’d grown accustomed to.

Damn, she sure smelled good.

But it had to be nearly noon. The times he’d spent the night on her sofa, she’d always showered first thing.

“Did you just wake up?” he asked.

“I wasn’t feeling…” She cleared her throat. “Well, I woke up tired, so since I’m off today, I decided to go back to bed.”

“Are you okay?” he asked, remembering that she was supposed to be going to the doctor. When was her appointment? What would the blood work show?

“I’m fine.” She offered him a smile. “It’s amazing what a little nap will do.”

“Can I come in?”

“Oh. Sorry.” She stepped aside so he could enter, then nodded at the bags he held in his arms. “What’s that?”

“It’s our dinner. I’m going to cook for you.”

“You really don’t have to.” She tightened the sash of her robe—one that had faded from use and bore a light scent of detergent, giving it the fragrance of home and hearth. “I’ll just fix myself a sandwich.”

“Not tonight. We’ve got something to celebrate.”

Her brow furrowed. “What are we celebrating?”

A sense of pride settled in his chest, a tinge of excitement. “I just made an offer on a house.”

“No kidding?” She followed him into the kitchen. “Where’s it located?”

“In Riverdale. Leif’s sister knew I was looking for something that needed a little work, and as soon as she snagged the listing, she gave me a call. I met her first thing this morning, and she was right. It’s just what I was looking for. So she wrote up my offer.”

“That was certainly fast,” Simone said. “It took me weeks to decide upon this place. I had to hire someone to come out and inspect it for me so that I could make sure it didn’t have any unexpected problems.”

Mike placed the bags on the countertop and began to remove the items he’d purchased. “I called my brother Aaron, and he stopped by to give me his opinion. But he agreed, the house needs a lot of work, but it’s nothing major.”

“Congratulations. I guess that is something to celebrate.”

“Thanks. It’s possible they won’t accept my offer, but Karen feels pretty confident they’ll be willing to negotiate.” He removed the chicken breasts that had been wrapped in butcher paper and placed the package in her fridge, next to a gallon of milk.

That big plastic jug seemed like a pretty large amount for a single woman to purchase for herself. Maybe she was getting used to having Mike around.

He sure hoped so.

“Tell me about the house,” she said.

“It’s the old Dennison place. I’m not sure if you remember, but three or four weeks ago, Ethel Dennison fell and broke her hip. Leif and I got the call and transported her to the E.R. I think you were on duty that night, but you were working with someone else at the time.”

Simone remembered the elderly woman who’d come in that night. “Ethel is a nice lady. I felt badly that she’d gotten hurt and that she would probably have to go into a convalescent home while she recuperated.”

“Her only child, a daughter, lives in Ohio and insisted that it was time Ethel moved in with her.”

“It’s too bad she had to give up her home, but it’s nice that she gets to be with her family.”

“Yes, it is,” he said. “Being with loved ones beats the heck out of going into a long-term-care facility.”

Yes, it did. But just thinking about Mrs. Dennison and her plight brought a question to mind.

If something happened to Simone’s mother, would she invite the woman to move in with her?

Sheesh. How far did one’s obligation go to a biological relative who acted more like a stranger?

Did it go beyond those occasional phone calls and Christmas dinners eaten in silence?

The only thing that made her feel slightly better about envisioning the scenario was the fact that even if Simone were to make an offer like that, her mom probably wouldn’t want to live with her.

“If they accept my price, Karen is going to ask them if I can rent the house from them until the close of escrow. And if they agree, Wags and I will be out of your hair in no time at all.” Mike tossed her a boyish grin. “So you see? Now you have good reason to celebrate, too.”

How could she say no to that?

Yet, for some reason, she didn’t feel particularly relieved about having her home to herself again.

“So,” Mike said, “now that I’m here, I’ll take the dogs for a walk. I thought maybe Woofer would show Wags how it’s done.”

“That would be nice.”

“You can walk with us, if you like. Or if you have any errands to run, go ahead. I’ll take them by myself.”

Actually, Simone had an appointment for a pedicure later this afternoon. And she wanted to pick up a new pair of nursing shoes, too. She also needed to replace her iron. Yesterday, before work, she’d been pressing a pair of scrubs when Wags got his head stuck behind the lamp table. She’d rushed to help him, tripped over the cord and knocked the iron onto the floor, breaking off the little spout that provided steam.

“Are you sure you don’t mind going alone?” she asked.

“Not at all. Take the day off, go shopping, have lunch with a friend. Whatever.”

His grin caused her heart to flip-flop, and for the briefest moment, she had the urge to tell him no, that she’d rather stick close to home and hang out with him and the dogs.

But how lame was that?

Taking a walk and spending the day with Mike might be counterproductive to everything she’d been trying to tell him.

That he couldn’t expect anything other than friendship from her.

It was late in the afternoon when Simone returned from her errands, but she didn’t find Mike or the dogs inside the house.

She did see signs in the kitchen that he’d started dinner. A covered pot sat on the stove, and a bottle of red wine rested on the counter, uncorked and breathing.

She heard a noise outside, made her way to the back door and glanced out the small window. She spotted him standing on the patio and firing up the grill, the dog and the puppy sitting on their haunches beside him.

Rather than let him know she was home, she stood there a moment, enjoying the sight of man and beast and nature.

Or rather, just the man.

Mike’s efforts at the barbecue had caused a hank of raven-black hair to fall across his brow. The intensity in his expression as he stoked the fire was enough to captivate her, to make her think of a Scottish laird on a windswept moor.

If Simone believed in miracles, if she believed that he might be right about…

But she couldn’t. Her mother had slowly whittled away at her self-esteem and her ability to trust anyone with her true emotions.

Instead, she tore her attention away from Mike, fearing that, if he caught her eye, the attraction she just couldn’t seem to kick would be too obvious. And if that happened, she could end up encouraging him to think the two of them could live happily ever after, rather than convince him they wouldn’t.

After putting away the items she’d purchased while shopping—a pair of scrubs to go along with the nursing shoes, as well as an iron and a few other household cleaning products—she went into the kitchen and announced, “Hey, I’m back.”

For a moment, her words had a honey-I’m-home ring to them, and she almost forgot that, when it came to love, she was a nonbeliever. At least, when it came to her and that particular emotion, she was.

Maybe she’d be better off coming clean with Mike about her past. About her irreparable scars. Then, when she finally leveled with him about the baby, he’d be more inclined to understand why she felt the way she did.

The door swung open, and Mike strode inside, as charming and hunky as ever. “Hey, beautiful. How was your day?”

Darn him. She almost felt pretty when she was with him. Even in a pair of jeans and a plain white cotton blouse.

She conjured a smile and lifted her right foot, which was wearing bright pink nail polish and a turquoise flip-flop. “It was great. I had a pedicure. See?”

His mouth quirked in a boyish grin that nearly buckled her knees. “Your toes look great. So does the rest of you.”

Oh, yeah. She’d gotten a haircut while she was at the salon. She supposed she couldn’t blame him for noticing. She usually wore it pulled back, out of her face.

“I like it down and curled under like that.”

Yeah. Well…“Thanks.” She combed her fingers through the strands, feeling them sluice along her hands, and struggled to find something else to say to that.

A change of topic would be good about now.

“What’s for dinner?” she asked.

“Barbecued chicken, seasoned red potatoes and a salad that’ll have you begging for the secret recipe of my vinaigrette dressing. But I’ll warn you right now. It’ll be virtually impossible to get me to crack. No one has been able to pry it from my lips.”

Her gaze drifted to his mouth, her thoughts to his kisses.

No, no, no, she told herself. Not there. Not now.

“I like vinaigrette dressing,” she said instead. “I can’t wait to taste it.”

He winked, and those kissable lips quirked up in a crooked grin.

She felt herself weakening, her thoughts flirting dangerously with memories of the past, of the night they’d made love until nearly dawn.

And that couldn’t be good.

She struggled to find some generic words, something that would get their conversation and her thoughts back on track.

“What can I do to help?” she asked.

“I’ve got it all covered. So just come outside and watch me grill.”

Okay. That was easy enough.

Once outdoors, he pulled up a patio chair, and she took a seat. All the while, Woofer and Wags scrambled for her attention. The puppy jumped on her leg, and the dog nuzzled her hands, hoping for a scratch behind the ears.

“Hey, guys,” Mike said to the dogs. “Give the lady a break.”

She smiled, providing them each the attention they wanted. “It’s kind of nice to know I was missed.”

Mike had missed her, too. But he was glad she’d gotten out of the house and treated herself to a new hairstyle and a pedicure.

“Why don’t you two go play,” he told the dogs as he reached for the rubber ball he’d left on the porch railing a while back and hurled it to the back of the yard.

As the dogs raced to the corner of the fence, his words echoed the instructions his parents used to give him and the other children on nights the couple had sat down to watch a movie on television. Mike hadn’t realized how difficult it must have been for his parents to juggle a love life around a houseful of rugrats, and his admiration for them grew.

“The dogs seem to be getting along much better now,” Simone said.

“I agree. We should be able to start leaving them alone when we both have to work.”

“Speaking of work,” Simone said, “we had an interesting case the other night. A little boy found a stray bullet in his backyard and apparently decided to put it up his nose.”

“Crazy kids. I’ve seen them put jelly beans and crayons up there. But a bullet? That must have been a bit tricky to get out.”

They continued to talk about some of the interesting cases they’d had while working, as well as a couple of humorous situations they’d come across.

“My dad’s birthday is Monday evening, so we’re all going to get together at my parents’ house. Sometimes, it’s a bit of a zoo, but it’s always entertaining. If you’re free, I’d like you to go with me.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass this time.”

He nodded, focusing on the fact that she’d said this time, which implied she might be up for it in the future.

They made some more small talk, and before long, the chicken was done. After Mike placed it on a clean platter, they left the dogs in the yard to eat outside and went indoors to enjoy their own meal in the dining room.

Mike pulled out Simone’s chair so she could sit down at the antique oak table. “I’ve got a bottle of merlot on the counter. If you give me a minute, I’ll pour us each a glass.”

“That’s okay. I’d rather have water.”

Was she still worried that the alcohol would lower her inhibitions and make her more susceptible to temptation? If so, she didn’t need to be. He wasn’t trying to go that route. He just wanted to set the mood and add a romantic touch.

He felt a bit funny drinking alone, but he didn’t want the wine to go to waste. “I’ll pour myself a glass, then. Do you want ice in your water?”

“Yes, please.”

When he returned to the table, she seemed pensive, introspective. She bit down on her bottom lip, furrowed her brow and stared at her plate. He watched her for a while, intent upon keeping his mouth shut. But as they ate in silence, curiosity finally got the better of him.

“Who hurt you, Simone?”

She glanced up, her gaze snagging his. “What do you mean?”

“Who broke your heart? I get this feeling that a man did a real number on you, and you’re not about to put yourself in that same position again.”

She studied him for a moment, as though pondering what to say, what to reveal.

About the time he’d decided that she wasn’t going to tell him, she said, “I dated this guy in college. I can’t say that he did any real number on me. But he certainly made me aware of my deficiencies in a relationship.”

Mike couldn’t think of any flaws that she might have, other than refusing to let her feelings go and give love a chance. “The guy was a fool.”

“No, Tom might have been brash and insensitive. But he pretty much got it right. He called me an ice queen, and it hurt—a lot. But I knew what he meant, and there wasn’t anything I could do to change that.”

“You weren’t cold or unfeeling the night you and I slept together.”

Her voice softened, even if her resolve didn’t. “How about the next morning?”

Yeah. There was that.

She blotted her lips with a napkin, then pushed her plate aside. “I don’t connect very well with people, Mike. I always hold back. And while I care about you—far more than is in my best interests—I can’t give you and me the chance you want us to have.”

“Why?” he asked, wanting to understand.

“Because my mother hated my father. Because she never wanted me in the first place. Because she decided to be noble and carry me to term, which I appreciate, but she was hell-bent on keeping me when she should have given me to someone who would have loved me.” Simone stood, picked up her plate, glass and silverware, then carried them into the kitchen, leaving Mike to second-guess what she’d just told him and to wonder what, if anything, she might have held back.

He, too, got to his feet and made his way to the kitchen with his own place setting.

“Hey,” he said, sidling up to her as she filled the sink with hot, soapy water. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

She turned to face him. “I know. But it’s best that you understand something. I didn’t have the love that you had growing up. I’m not sure if you put any merit in child psychology, but I never bonded with my mom. I didn’t learn to trust. Whenever I was hurt, no one gave a damn. So on the outside, I might look okay and act professionally. But on the inside, I’m scared and not so sure about things. And for that reason, I’m happier being alone.”

Mike gently gripped her shoulders, the silky strands of her hair brushing against his knuckles. “You’re a queen, but you’re not made of ice. And I’ll give you the time you need. Just don’t shut me out because you have some wild-ass notion that you’re looking out for my best interests.”

Then he kissed her, long and hard and thorough.

Their tongues mated, their breaths mingled. Their hearts pounded out in need.

And when he was done, when there was a flush of arousal along her neck and chest, when her lips parted and her eyes widened, he excused himself for the evening and left her alone.

To think.

And, hopefully, to yearn for all that they could be together.