Her Best Friend's Baby

by Vicki Lewis Thompson, Stephanie Bond

  He could almost hear the flick of a match and imagine it being touched to a waiting bonfire. “Ditto.”

  “You’d better get on your horse and ride out of here, cowboy. Git while the gittin’s good, as they say.”

  “You’re right.” Summoning willpower he’d learned at his mother’s and father’s knees, he stood. “I’ll get my stuff and vamoose.”

  “Don’t bother to say goodbye.”

  He gazed at her. She looked so relaxed and available. “All right. Will you be okay alone tonight?” God, he didn’t want to go.

  “Who says I’ll be alone? Lana is usually ready and willing to take in a show, and I think there’s a Ben Affleck movie in town.”

  So he could be replaced by Ben Affleck. He tried to remind himself that Mary Jane’s resiliency was the saving grace in this whole crazy mess. “Then I guess I’ll take off.”

  “Will you come to the diner tomorrow?”

  “Sure.” He would eat all his meals there if he could get away with it. But that might come across as too obvious. Just maybe. “If you’re not too tired, we could go out tomorrow night and look at baby furniture.”

  “That would be cool.”

  “Okay, then.” Still he lingered.

  “Take off, Morgan.”

  “Right.” Turning on his heel, he went inside the town house. Moments later he walked out the front door, locking it behind him. As he drove away, he felt as if a huge rubber band stretched from him all the way to Mary Jane.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ALTHOUGH MARY JANE went to the movies that night with Lana, she turned down Lana’s suggestion of another sleep-over. Mary Jane felt it was a point of honor to get through a night by herself, alone in her own bed, to prove that she could.

  It took her entire collection of stuffed animals sharing the bed with her, but she managed to stave off the nightmares. She rolled several of her animals up in a towel and pretended the lumpy bundle was Morgan sleeping next to her. It wasn’t much of a substitute, but at least it didn’t turn her on, either. Because she was very tired, she finally fell asleep.

  She greeted the next morning with a feeling of triumph. Maybe she hadn’t slept well, but at least she’d slept. And today Morgan was coming to the diner.

  Unfortunately they hadn’t settled on any particular time. That had been an oversight on her part, she realized as her pulse leaped with anticipation every time the diner door opened. By midmorning she was a nervous wreck. In the process of making a fresh pot of coffee she nearly scalded herself.

  Shelby dumped the plates she was carrying into a plastic bin and took Mary Jane by the shoulders. “Are you sure you should be here?” She studied Mary Jane’s face. “You still have dark circles under your eyes. Maybe you need more time before you jump back into the routine.”

  Mary Jane took a deep breath. “I’m fine. I slept all alone in my own bed last night. I just need to slow down, is all.”

  A gleam of curiosity lit Shelby’s green eyes. “If you say so.”

  As Mary Jane tried to interpret the look, she went over what she’d just said to Shelby that might have aroused her boss’s interest. And there it was, the incriminating remark. I slept alone in my own bed last night. She’d been so proud of herself that the words had slipped right out. But a person didn’t usually say that unless she’d been doing otherwise recently. Uh-oh.

  “Lana said that Morgan is buying the Slattery place,” Shelby said.

  “Yep. Sure is.” Mary Jane thought Shelby was skating too close to some things she wasn’t ready to admit, even to herself. “Guess I’d better go finish busing number four.”

  “Okay.” The wheels seemed to be spinning furiously in Shelby’s mind, but she didn’t make any more comments.

  Mary Jane grabbed a damp cloth and hurried to booth four. Maybe if she blew right past Shelby’s curiosity, Shelby might drop the whole matter. Probably not, but it was worth a try.

  From the corner of her eye she saw a tall, broad-shouldered cowboy come through the door of the diner. Her heart beat faster until she turned to look more fully at him and realized he wasn’t Morgan.

  The man approached the booth she was cleaning. Funny how people did that when other booths were available. For some reason, booth four was popular, maybe because it had the best view through the pass-through into the kitchen, and diners liked to watch their food being cooked.

  Mary Jane smiled automatically. “Welcome to Austin Eats. I’ll have this booth ready in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

  “Take your time, ma’am.”

  Texas born, Mary Jane decided. She liked trying to guess where people were from by their accent. Morgan’s clipped New York accent gave her a real charge because it was so different from what she heard every day. As if she needed one more thing to turn her on where Morgan was concerned.

  She pocketed her tip and gestured toward the booth. “If you’d like to have a seat, I’ll be right back with your silverware. Would you like some coffee?”

  “Yes, ma’am. That’d be great.”

  “Cream?”

  “No, thank you. Just black.” He sat in the booth with a sigh and pulled the menu out of its holder.

  That deep sigh tugged at Mary Jane’s heart. She’d also learned to read moods, and this fellow had some big problems, judging from that sigh. Even though it wasn’t yet eleven in the morning, maybe she’d recommend a hot fudge sundae with the works. The guy could probably use it.

  By the time she’d returned with his coffee and silverware he had the menu closed in front of him. Giving him another encouraging smile, she took her order pad out of the front pocket of her apron. “What can I get for you this morning?”

  He nudged the brim of his hat and glanced at her. He was nice-looking, probably in his mid-forties. “To tell the truth, ma’am, I’m not all that hungry. Maybe I’ll stick with the coffee.”

  She tapped her name tag. “You can call me Mary Jane.”

  “And you can call me Harrison.” He smiled, but his eyes still looked sad. “I’ll stick with the coffee, Mary Jane.”

  “May I make a teeny tiny suggestion, Harrison?”

  “Okay.”

  “How about the Austin Eats Super-Deluxe Hot Fudge Sundae?”

  He looked startled. “Now?”

  “Anytime’s a good time for chocolate.”

  Sure enough, the years slipped away as his expression turned to one of anticipation. The little boy in him still loved ice cream, apparently, although the grown man thought it was a silly idea.

  “I make them myself, and they’re unbelievable,” she said. “You only live once.” She’d been saying that for years to her customers at the diner without really thinking about it. Now, after what had happened, the words made her chest hurt a little. But she needed to remember those words and keep on saying them. She hadn’t realized how important they were.

  “You’re right.” Harrison looked much happier already. “I’ll have the sundae.”

  “Good. I’ll be right back.” This was one of her favorite parts of the job. She’d always loved the stainless steel refrigerated compartments where the ice cream was kept, the scoop, the thick fudge, the pressurized can full of whipping cream.

  Ever since Sara had taken the job as cook, Mary Jane enjoyed making ice cream treats even more, because while she worked on one, she could talk to Sara through the rectangular opening into the kitchen. “Hey, Sara,” she called. “You did a primo job on that four-top that wanted all those substitutions. Thanks.”

  “I sort of liked the challenge. So I made the meals to suit them?”

  “Apparently.”

  Because the lunch rush hadn’t started, Sara had time on her hands. She came over to the pass-through to watch Mary Jane and chuckled when she saw what she was up to. “I see you talked somebody into a hot fudge sundae again.”

  “Yep. He needs it, too. Looks like he lost his best friend.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Booth four. Don’t look like you
’re staring, though. I’d hate to embarrass the poor guy.”

  “Okay. Thoughtful of him to take booth four so I can get a good look at him.” Sara glanced into the diner with a show of nonchalance. “You mean that big cowboy?”

  “He’s the one. His name’s Harrison.”

  “Funny, he doesn’t look like a Harrison. But he’s very attractive.”

  “I guess so, for an older man.”

  “I must go for that type, because I think he’s gorgeous. Oops, he looked over here. He might have caught me. How embarrassing. I’ll pretend I’m doing something right by the window.” Sara turned away but continued to talk to Mary Jane. “Is he still looking?”

  Mary Jane turned so she could peek over her shoulder. “Yep.”

  “Shoot. I know he saw me.”

  “So you glanced at him. So what?”

  “I’m afraid it might have been more than a glance. Something about him really appeals to me. Maybe I do go for that older-man type. Maybe that’s a clue about who I am.”

  “Maybe.” Mary Jane gazed at her in sympathy. When Sara had taken the job at Austin Eats many months ago, she’d had amnesia, and no one knew her real name. But she was a heck of a cook, and a very nice person. Mary Jane liked her a lot. “Still no glimmers?”

  “No. And you can’t imagine what that’s like, Mary Jane, to have no idea who you are, to have no history.”

  “You’re right. I can’t imagine it. But I have to believe you’ll remember. You just need more time.” She positioned a cherry, stem pointing up, in the exact center of a swirl of whipped cream.

  Sara straightened her shoulders, as if determined not to let her situation get her down. “I’m sure you’re right.”

  “I’m right. Well, gotta take the prescription over to the sad cowboy.” Mary Jane winked at Sara. “Try not to drool on the French fries, okay?”

  “Maybe he lost his true love,” Sara said. “Check for a ring.”

  Mary Jane laughed. “I’ll do that.” She put the sundae on a plate covered with a paper doily, picked up a long-handled spoon and headed toward booth four. Instead of the smile of delight she expected from the cowboy, he was still staring intently toward the kitchen and barely seemed to notice that she’d put the sundae in front of him.

  She hoped he wasn’t offended because he’d caught Sara looking at him. “Ta-da!” she said, waving her hand toward the sundae.

  He glanced at the treat. “Oh. Thanks, Mary Jane. That looks nice.”

  It wasn’t the response she’d hoped for. Some people actually clapped when they were presented with one of her sundaes. He must be offended about Sara’s obvious interest.

  Maybe she should acknowledge the fact and get it out in the open. “I’m sorry if you caught our cook staring at you.” She looked to make sure he didn’t have a wedding ring on. No ring. Maybe his ego could use a boost. “She’d kill me for telling you, because she’s on the shy side, but the truth is she thinks you’re attractive.”

  “Is that right?” Instead of sounding pleased about it, he seemed royally ticked.

  “Don’t be angry with her,” Mary Jane said softly. “She has amnesia, and she’s trying so hard to get her memory back. Searching for every clue. Maybe she thought—”

  “Amnesia?” The cowboy looked at Mary Jane in astonishment, all trace of irritation gone.

  “Yes.” Mary Jane was glad she’d changed the cowboy’s attitude. Sara would die if she thought she’d made him mad, and Mary Jane felt very protective of Sara’s feelings. “She showed up about nine months ago. Didn’t know who she was or where she’d come from. We call her Sara because we don’t know her real name.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “I know. But she’s a great cook and a hard worker. She’s become a good friend, so I’m hoping she’ll figure out who she is soon. It’s driving her nuts.”

  “I’ll bet.” The cowboy was so intent on watching Sara in the kitchen that his sundae was in danger of melting and dribbling over the side of the dish.

  “Well, I’ll leave you with your ice cream,” Mary Jane said, hoping the statement would remind him of the special treat he was ignoring.

  “Okay. Thanks again.” He made no move to pick up his spoon.

  With a shrug Mary Jane left. You could lead a man to a hot fudge sundae, but you couldn’t make him eat. Besides, any minute the lunch crunch would begin and she needed to be caught up and ready for that. She wished she’d warned Morgan not to arrive right in the middle of it. If he did, she wouldn’t have a second to spare.

  A little past noon every booth was filled and only a couple of stools at the counter were available. At moments like this Mary Jane shifted into high gear, taking orders with lightning speed and delivering food in a smooth rhythm she’d developed over the years. Shelby called it her perpetual motion mode, and Mary Jane took great pride in being unflappable.

  But when Morgan limped through the door with a bandage across his forehead, she nearly dropped the tray of shakes and burgers she was carrying to booth two. With her arms full of food, there was nothing she could do but deliver the order while Morgan made his way to one of the available stools and sat down.

  Damn that Garrett! He’d put Morgan on the wrong horse, most likely. She would like to wring his neck. He should have seen right away that Morgan was a greenhorn and given him that fifteen-year-old gelding that couldn’t get out of a trot. Garrett would have some explaining to do. He—

  “I had the onion rings and she had the fries,” the woman at the table said, switching the plates Mary Jane had placed on the table. “And mine was the chocolate shake.”

  Mary Jane looked at the table in dismay and realized she’d completely mixed up the orders. “Oh, I’m so sorry! Of course you did.” Blushing, she rearranged everything.

  “No problem,” said the woman. “You’re busy. It happens.”

  “Not to me,” Mary Jane said, irritated with herself. She never did this. She was famous for her ability to match up orders and customers correctly. “That’s my personal motto—you get what you order. Now, is there anything else I can do for you folks?”

  “Uh, give us the straws in your apron pocket?” the woman asked.

  “Of course.” Her cheeks heated as she took out the straws she’d put there specifically to go with the shakes. All her automatic moves were deserting her simply because Morgan was sitting on a stool somewhere behind her and he was hurt. “I’m sorry I’m so spacey.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” one of the women said. “My sister and I just came from a visit with my new granddaughter over at Maitland. Nothing could upset us after getting a look at little Ashley.”

  She flashed the women a big smile. “Congratulations. That’s wonderful news. Give that baby Ashley a kiss for me when you see her again, okay? I’ll be back to check on you in a bit!” Then she whirled, ignored a signal from booth six and made straight for Morgan’s stool.

  She tapped him on the shoulder.

  He put down his water and swiveled to face her. “Hi.”

  Now she could see a bruise forming on his cheek, as well. “What the heck happened to you?”

  “I—”

  “Don’t tell me. I can guess. That Garrett should be shot.” She raised her voice to summon Shelby, who was racing back and forth behind the counter, serving customers. “Did you see what your brother did?”

  “I think it was a horse, not my brother,” Shelby called.

  “It wasn’t Garrett’s fault,” Morgan said. “I was—”

  “Mary Jane!” called one of the regular customers, a pediatric nurse. “We’re outa coffee over here!”

  “Gotta go,” she said to Morgan. “Don’t leave.”

  “I thought I’d eat,” he said, looking amused.

  “Good. Get the mushroom burger. You won’t be sorry.” Then she hurried behind the counter, grabbed a coffee carafe and headed for booth one.

  She didn’t have time to check on Morgan again for nearly fifteen minutes. Hav
ing him in the diner was ruining her concentration, and she’d goofed up another order already, but she didn’t want him to leave. She had to find out exactly how he’d ended up on the injured list.

  “How’re you doing?” she asked as she paused for a minute behind his stool. She noticed with satisfaction that he’d ordered the mushroom burger.

  He glanced over his shoulder at her. “This is good. Very good.”

  “Told ya. Save room for a sundae.”

  “Oh, I—”

  “On the house. Be back soon.” She was falling behind on her orders. Once you got behind during the lunch crunch, you were dead meat. Finding the time to make him a sundae wouldn’t be easy, but she was determined to do it. It was one of her skills, and she wanted to show it off. Besides, a hot fudge sundae was just the thing to take his mind off his injuries.

  Garrett was so going to hear from her about this. He was in deep trouble for mussing up her Morgan.

  MORGAN WATCHED Mary Jane run her legs off taking and delivering orders, and he congratulated himself on having the foresight to come in when the place was hopping. This way he could correctly evaluate the strain she was under, and she wouldn’t be able to give him a snow job about her work being a piece of cake.

  It wasn’t. He’d waited tables during his undergrad days, and he remembered how exhausting the job could be even if you were young. And Mary Jane was pregnant. With his kid. That had to give him some leverage to convince her to cut back, even if she didn’t quit entirely.

  She zipped past him like the Roadrunner being chased by Wily Coyote. “Ready for that sundae?” she called over her shoulder.

  “Not yet!” he called back. He could see how frazzled she was. Stopping to make him a sundae was ridiculous.

  But damn, she looked cute tearing around this place in her snug white uniform, her ponytail bouncing in time to the tunes pouring out of the jukebox. He’d bet she was a cheerleader in high school. Cheerleaders hadn’t attracted him back when he was in school. All that energy and emotion had made him nervous. Now, though, he wanted to soak it up, maybe even wallow in it. No doubt about it, the accident that had taken Arielle’s life seemed to have wiped out the man he used to be.