Outside The Lines (Love Beyond Reason Book 2)

by Rhodes, Beth

  “Are you okay?”

  He frowned, really looked at her, standing there like she belonged, like she had the right to fucking ask him if he was okay.

  He’d always wondered what characteristics he’d picked up from his mom.

  Had it been her green eyes? Yes. The way she laughed or a nervous tick, like biting her pinky nail? No. No, worse—he’d picked up her propensity for abandonment.

  He’d done it to Maria.

  The thought of doing the same thing to another generation of Marches made him a little sick to his stomach. Could he let this legacy continue?

  4

  Silence woke David from his restless sleep, and he rolled over in his large bed to look out the window. He rubbed his hand through his hair then over the back of his neck as he stretched the tendons and the muscles into relaxing. A new day. Day two.

  The quiet was familiar yet unsettling because of all that had happened. He’d grown up with the awesome effect of a snow-muted world. It was probably one of his favorite things about living here. Winter. White. Seclusion.

  A deep sense of being—alive, alone, crucial. When his world had disintegrated around him, he’d found life out there. He’d known that if everyone left him, he would survive. He needed no one but himself. And he’d made sure of that by learning everything he could.

  David sighed, pulling on his sweatpants, as he got out of bed and crossed to the window. Yup. Winter Wonderland. They’d gotten snow. Lots of it, and it was still snowing. The white stuff was thick, floating to the ground from his window to the tree line at the back of the property. Drifts were starting to form along the eastern border.

  Which could only mean one thing. Maria was not going anywhere this morning. Shit. Life threw curves. Meeting her in the first place had been a curve at a low point in his life. His mother’s persistence to make a connection. His dissatisfaction at work and wanting something more but not knowing what it was that would make him happy. He’d let the vulnerability of wanting more overcome his good sense. Now, fate seemed to be playing one more trick.

  And though he wanted his life to return to normal, wanted the uncertainty of her back in his life to disappear like magic, anticipation fluttered through his gut.

  Damn it.

  The clock on his nightstand said 7am, so he picked up his phone and called Mrs. Kraus to tell her not to bother coming to the house. He’d have to postpone The Library Affair, which wouldn’t be unexpected. The board had chosen January as the month to put on this big event, a fundraiser that included authors, booksellers, and readers. And it had been hosted here, at the house for three years running.

  Why they hadn’t decided to use May or September, he couldn’t figure out. Next year, he’d propose a change of venue, even if it meant sticking his nose in board business, which would inevitably set in motion the gears of recruitment.

  He’d never met more determined people than the people of this town to get him to volunteer for stuff. He’d held out so far—except for the little league teams.

  He tapped the phone against his palm, his gaze wandering back to the window. The snow had to be at least eight inches. He usually stayed on top of the forecast, but yesterday had been…different, and he’d lost track, falling into deep sleep when he finally went to bed.

  He should check up on her.

  No.

  Yes!

  “Damn it.” He dialed the number for the inn. His determination to ignore the connection to her was failing him. Usually he was very good at being a determined realist and compartmentalizing. But over and over in the last day, she’d intruded on his thoughts and made a liar of him.

  “Hello,” Mrs. Boehler answered, her voice chipper and friendly.

  “Hi Nan.” David started then cut to the chase. “I need to speak with Maria.”

  “You missed her by about half an hour. She left for Burlington already.”

  “What?” David immediately brought up the airport’s info on his phone. “Why would she do that? All flights out of Burlington have been cancelled.”

  “She thought she would go, just in case things changed before nine when her flight is scheduled. I tried to talk her out of it, but she was bound to get out of here.”

  He rubbed a hand over his face and scratched his scalp. “What was she driving?”

  “Oh, that little thing she had yesterday. I told her to call Davis, but she wouldn’t listen.”

  “Of course not.”

  Davis was the town’s taxi driver/chauffeur. He owned a bad-ass four-wheel-drive that could get through pretty much anything a Vermont winter threw their way.

  “You going to go look for her?”

  It wasn’t like him to get involved with stupid tourist problems. But this was different. And Maria might be stranded out there in the blizzard, unused to the crazy driving conditions brought on by the heavy, wet snow. “Dang it. Yes.”

  “I figured.” Nan cackled a laugh.

  “Oh, did you?”

  “Of course. You’re a good boy.”

  David cringed and rolled his eyes. After last night, he wasn’t so sure. “I’ll take care of it. Do you have a phone number for her?”

  Using his phone, he took down the number then hung up and dialed.

  But he got her voicemail, and he couldn’t help but listen to her message—the sound of her voice, the one that had an edge of excitement to it, and the soft timbre of…well, let’s face it—sex. It was hard not to think about sex when he thought about Maria. “Hey Ree, it’s me. Call me when you get this.”

  Then he got ready to go out. Long-johns, double socks, turtleneck, and his Carhartt’s—all under his heavy wool coat. He pulled on a hat and a pair of gloves. His phone went into the pocket on his sleeve.

  Before leaving the house, he grabbed the first aid kit from the front hall closet—just in case. His old Chevy—the one he’d driven across country last fall when his father had sent him to Sacramento on business—sat in the garage, ready to go. It had snow tires, blankets in the back, a small box with nonperishable foods, and the 454 under the hood that he’d put in it last winter before heading to Canada on business.

  The thing ran like the well-oiled machine he’d kept it over the years.

  The roads were bad, but with the snow being new, he didn’t have much trouble with traction. He even wondered if he should just forget it and go back home. Maybe she’d made it out of town.

  But visibility was pretty crappy, and if the weather channel was right, the next hour or two would only get worse before the storm blew off to the north and east. It would only take him half the day to get to Burlington and back.

  For a Sunday, that wasn’t too bad. He could stop in at Jeff’s while he was there, shoot the shit while the storm disappeared.

  But he didn’t have far to go before he found her little compact car in the middle of the road. There were no signs of distress, no skid marks.

  At least the car was still running, and she was staying warm.

  David pulled his truck to the side of the road, parking on the shoulder. The snow crunched under his feet the few steps to her rental car, and he knocked on the window.

  Maria popped up from her position, leaning over and reaching for something in her bag, and screamed. “Jeez!” She rolled down the window. “You scared me!”

  With a frown, he put a hand on the door and bent over. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Ree?”

  “I’m going home.”

  “You’re sitting in the middle of the road.”

  “And in a minute I’ll be continuing on my way,” she said so matter-of-factly that he actually smiled.

  With a shake of his head, he pressed his lips together. “There’s no point going now.”

  She turned her eyes to their surroundings, and uncertainty filled her gaze. “I can’t stay here,” she whispered.

  “Come on.”

  She blinked rapidly.

  He knew what that meant—tears. And he didn’t like tears. But who did?
No one.

  He frowned, looked around at the snow coming down. Foolish. “It’s ridiculous to run out of here in this weather just because…” I can’t handle you, can’t handle everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours. “Just because.”

  He had an idea of why she wanted to run. And maybe he resented her appearance in his hometown, but he didn’t want anything bad to happen to her or the…he swallowed hard…the baby. “The roads are slick. The snow is only going to get worse. You’ll end up in a ditch.”

  She scowled at him, and he could tell she wanted to argue.

  “Follow me back.” As far as he was concerned, she had no choice. She’d come to his town, invaded his peace, and now he was responsible for her.

  ~*~

  “Fine.”

  He could be nice about it, though. You might have been smart as well, you ninny!

  She sighed. He wouldn’t be out in this weather at all, if not for her. But she’d made a decision—another bad one, Maria—and someone was coming up behind her to fix it. She’d made a decision and she was very well going to follow through!

  Just, maybe not right this minute, because driving had been treacherous and she’d actually slid to a stop where she was…and even following David back right now was making her sweat and her stomach hurt.

  Stupid!

  She’d left Nan’s with more determination than certainty that she could successfully navigate the snow-covered country side. As she’d stopped in the middle of the road, she debated whether or not to turn around versus push forward. She had more to think about now than just herself.

  Maria assumed he’d lead her back to town and The Inn, but instead she found herself driving up the driveway where the weekend had started. Nerves fluttered through her stomach, and the feeling made her have to pee. Dang it. Ever since she’d gotten pregnant, she found herself ordered by her bladder.

  She wanted to insist he take her back to town. Instead, she turned off the car and picked up her purse.

  Looked like she was going to be spending a little time with David Cold-as-ice March after all. She sighed. When the wind and snow hit her in the face, she couldn’t help be a little grateful. With a last look behind her, she realized she couldn’t even see the road, and she shivered.

  David held the door, ushering her in as a cold wind whipped it from his hand and slammed it shut.

  “You hungry?”

  “Maybe. I just—” Maria shrugged. “Restroom?”

  He pointed down the hall. “Third door on the right.”

  She hurried that way, opened the dark mahogany door with the glass knob, and stepped into a little bit of holy-moly-opulence. She dropped her purse on the mosaic tile floor and sat on the toilet, lid down. Then she breathed, deep cleansing breaths until her nerves settled.

  He lightly knocked on the door. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she bit off, a little annoyed that now he wondered. She took care of business and re-entered real life. “So, how long do you think this will last?”

  He touched his phone, swiping across the screen a few times, before looking up. “Another twelve hours or so. Going to come down for a few more hours and then it’ll be a good eight hours until the roads get cleared.”

  She wanted to groan. Instead, she rallied what was left of her gumption. “I might be hungry.”

  “I might have food.”

  “Okay then. That’s good.”

  He nodded to her in a follow me gesture and led her down the hall and through a doorway at the back of the house. “Kitchen, which I rarely come into,” David said with little to no apology.

  “Spoiled rich boy?”

  “At your service.”

  She never would have guessed it in California. Just one more reason to get the hell out of this town and leave him behind. Chevy driving, hometown boy her ass. It was all a lie.

  But her hands itched to dig into whatever the kitchen had to offer. She loved to cook. Not a surprise, as she’d grown up at her mother’s knee, learning to feed a family of nine. “May I?”

  “Go for it.” He waved a hand. “We’d starve if I was in charge. That is, unless you want to eat peanut butter and jelly. That, I can do.”

  “I like PB and J,” she answered quietly, studying him as if he was a stranger. He was, really. “What’s your favorite food?” She noted the closure in his eyes. “Right. I get it. You left. It’s over. I’m here temporarily.” The burst of anger surprised her and deep down, sadness gripped her. Strangers. They were no more than that. Shit. All the warnings about giving it away for free… She’d listened and then forgotten. Had she thought so little of herself? She didn’t want to think about it. It was enough that she was here, standing up for herself and her baby. “…food. I want to eat.”

  She opened the fridge and found it full of just about everything and anything she’d need to put together a seven-course meal. “Sandwiches?”

  “Sure.”

  When she glanced over her shoulder, he was grinning.

  “What,” she bit off, not sure what the heck was so damned amusing.

  The grin disappeared and his hands came up. “Easy. I’m laughing at myself.”

  “Oh. That’s unexpected.”

  His snorting laugh made her stop in the act of pulling out some lunchmeat.

  “I know where the bread is.”

  “There’s hope for you yet,” she said, deadpan, hating the easy-going atmosphere he was creating in spite of her irritability. Out came the finely sliced provolone, lettuce and tomato. “How about a cutting board?”

  Looking around uncertainly, David began opening cabinets.

  “Try there, next to the stove, in the narrow door.”

  He opened it and pulled out a large wooden board. “Tada!”

  They worked together—sort of—putting lunch on the table in the corner of the kitchen. The small nook reminded her of home. Maybe it was the table itself, a pretty poplar, or the fact that evidence of the housekeeper existed here. A small pile of papers in the corner and a pair of glasses sitting on those papers. It felt like a home in this room.

  She took her sandwich to the microwave and nuked it—doctor’s orders—then brought it back to the table.

  “What the hell is that? Why did you microwave your sandwich?”

  “It’s a thing—listeria. They say it can harm the baby.”

  David swallowed, hard. He nodded, which she took as a good sign, one that indicated he might, could possibly be warming up to the idea. Far better than the frigid reception she’d gotten yesterday. “Look. I know this is awkward—”

  David stopped her with a hand on her arm. The touch sent tendrils of a memory twining through her subconscious. She was helpless to stop the grip of need and nostalgia, of wanting him the way he’d been.

  “I don’t know what it is, Maria. I don’t know…”

  She shrugged and moved away from his touch.

  “A baby,” he started, the tone in his voice part disbelief, part awe.

  “Yes.” She set her sandwich down. “Look, if you want me to, we can get paternity tests done. I’ll need you to give a sample. It’s simple, of course. But I understand completely. I’m just a girl you met on the road. You don’t know me.”

  “I know you.”

  “What?” She couldn’t have heard him right.

  “I’ve had twenty-four hours to think.” He finished his sandwich, picking up his napkin to swipe it across his lips. “A month is enough time.”

  “Enough time to get pregnant, yes. As a matter of fact, all you need is about three minutes…less.”

  His gaze turned heated, and she was thrown back to that time when he was in California and they’d been so close, never getting enough. They’d talked, long hours through the day and night, and eventually, they’d given in to more passion than she’d known could exist between herself and a man.

  Maria cleared her throat and tried to pull out of the memories. There was no help in them, and she’d been wro
ng about that damn passion, hadn’t she? That was the bottom line, proven by her trip to Vermont.

  “No.” His grip tightened so that she was stuck. “Enough time to know you.”

  She opened her mouth to object, and he let her go just as quickly, moving to the row of windows where he stuffed his hands into his pockets. “But I’m also a March, and Marches don’t fall back on their word.”

  “You never promised me anything.” Her response was quick and sure. And it broke her heart a little. She wanted him tied to her because they had something that was incredible and great. Never would she settle for obligation.

  He came toward her with the look of a predator in his eyes. Placing his hands on the table, he leaned in. “Making love with you was a promise, words or not.”

  “That’s an archaic sentiment, David.” And surprising from him. Ironic that she would be arguing against him and he would be trying to convince her of some unspoken promise. But no, she wouldn’t settle.

  She’d always thought she would wait until she was married. She’d failed…and loved him because she hadn’t known how to say no, hadn’t wanted to. He’d drawn her in. To hear him say that making love was a promise…that sounded too similar to her own beliefs, sounded too much like the man she’d gotten to know.

  “You don’t believe that,” he said.

  She got up, skirting his overpowering presence, and took her plate to the sink.

  He couldn’t believe that making love was some kind of promise. Promises didn’t leave. “You left!”

  “Because you scared me!”

  She froze and backed up, shaking her head. “No.”

  He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, pressing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “Yes. Now. Now that I’ve bared my damned soul, and pretty much obliterated any solid ground I had against you, I’m going back to bed.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “Yeah, I’m tired. I was up late, and then up early because of the snow.” He picked up her bag and went through a doorway on the opposite side of the kitchen. The door swung back and then rocked a few times on its hinges. He popped back through the doorway. “Are you coming?”