“I’m not an invalid. I can get out of the car myself,” she growled.
“Sorry.”
She didn’t mind his chivalrous behavior but didn’t think she could keep him at bay if he kept touching her. He held the door for her and asked the hostess for a quiet table in a corner.
The waitress wrote down their order and they sat in silence, sipping their water, taking in the scenery. The restaurant was festive, not overdone in holiday decorations but tastefully decorated with poinsettias and greenery draped on the windows.
When her spinach salad arrived she was grateful for the distraction. Trent begged for her to go to lunch so he could talk but he hadn’t said a word yet. He fidgeted with his napkin, his utensils, his water, looking everywhere except at her. She thought about giving him a hard time about it but then she’d have to listen to him, or answer his questions, something she wasn’t ready to do.
***
Trent
After they wasted enough time in awkward silence he pushed his chowder bowl aside, resting his elbows on the table. “So.”
She lifted her eyes to his and finished chewing. “So.”
“We’re having a baby.”
“I’m having a baby. I told you that a few months ago.”
Her hormones were obviously affecting her personality. Trent wasn’t expecting the hostility. The Rayne he knew was a peacemaker, willing to listen to all sides of the story, never quick to judge. The Rayne who sat before him was…glowing. He smiled, remembering the expression on her face when he’d beat her at chess.
“Remember when you lost our chess game?”
She lost that bet and had to dance around naked. One song, that was all he had asked. She sulked and tried to get out of her end of the bargain but he held her to it. She didn’t make it thirty seconds into the song before he’d tackled her to the floor and made love to her.
“What? You’re thinking about that now?”
“Yeah, I am,” he said with a laugh, enjoying watching the blush creep up her neck and fill her cheeks.
“Well, I’m not. I’m thinking about how you threw me to the ground in the woods and didn’t strap a condom on and then accused me of trapping you before moving three thousand miles away.” She dropped her fork noisily to her plate and pushed her chair back.
“Don’t go. Please. You’re right. I was an ass.”
“Not was. Are. You are an ass.”
Trent nodded. “I deserve that. I’m sorry. I won’t turn my back on you or the baby.”
“You already did.”
“I won’t do it again.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why the sudden change? Did Claire guilt you into it? Because that’s not any better. My baby will not grow up feeling like a nuisance, someone who got in the way of her father’s freedom. I’d rather her not know you at all.”
Trent ran his hand across his scalp. He needed a haircut. Normally he kept it so short he couldn’t run his fingers through it. Easier that way with the bakery, but Felicia said women liked longer hair these days and the hair stylist on the show would gel it up for him. When did he start letting other people tell him what to do? When he stopped hanging out with his friends, when he stopped caring, when he cared more about his career than his family.
When he stopped seeing Rayne.
“The baby isn’t a nuisance.”
Rayne snorted. “Not yet, because it isn’t you she’s kicking all night. It isn’t your bladder that’s as flat as a pancake. It’s not your varicose veins that are going to burst. And it won’t be you up in the middle of the night when she has colic and can’t sleep. It won’t be you when she’s teething and cries for hours on end or when she—”
“Rayne. Stop. I know what you’re trying to do.”
“Really? What the hell am I trying to do?”
Now she even sounded like him. Could be a good thing. He knew how to handle wiseass better than crying female. “You’re trying to scare me away, but it won’t work. I’m going to take responsibility for the baby.”
“From California? You’ll squeeze her in between paparazzi and being a world famous sexy baker guy? Doubt it. You made your choice. I’m happy for you that you’ve gotten what you always dreamed of.”
So she still thought he was sexy. He could work with that. “I will take responsibility.”
Rayne stood and shoved her arms in her coat. “See, that’s the problem right there.” She picked up her purse and reached for her wallet.
“No. Lunch is on me.” They both paused and he remembered how many times they had lunch, dinner, dessert, on each other. Never breakfast. That would scream commitment!
“Whatever.” She stormed off before he could flag down the waitress to pay for their meal.
Before she could explain exactly what the problem was.
Chapter Fourteen
Rayne
“Let me explain,” Claire said when she answered the phone.
“This better be good.” Rayne filled up her tub, poured in a generous amount of lavender bubble bath, and settled herself in the frothy suds.
“Trent called last night right before he boarded a red eye flight. I asked him to meet me for lunch…but things got busy. I went to the waiting room to tell him and saw your sisters. They filled me in on the rest.”
“Uh huh. And you just so happened to plan your lunch for the same time you knew I’d be having my ultrasound?”
“Okay. Guilty on that. I wasn’t expecting him to go in with you. I just wanted you two to accidentally bump into each other. Seriously. The rest was…fate. He came home to see you.”
“Fate has nothing to do with this.”
“I know. I’m meddling. Brian told me to stay out of it, but Trent won’t talk to him either. I hope you two can work things out. I care about you both so much and know that you can compromise.”
“So you think I’m at fault?”
Claire was silent for a moment. “No. Trent screwed things up. I just wish you’d give him a second chance.”
“Claire, he never even tried for a second chance. Not until you thrust him in my face. Now he’s feeling guilty. I don’t want his guilt. I want his…” love.
“Rayne. You see how wonderful he is with Faith. Imagine how loving he’ll be to his own child.”
“Sure. For ten minutes while he’s pushing her on the swing in the park. The rest of the time he’ll be too busy with…his job, friends, girlfriends, his life in California.”
“Trent has never had a girlfriend. Sure, he’s dated lots of women, but none he’d call a girlfriend. Not until you.”
“No, he didn’t call me a girlfriend either.” Rayne picked up a handful of bubbles and blew them across the tub. She imagined playing in the bath with her little girl, dark blonde curls and green laughing eyes, splashing and catching bubbles in her tiny hands.
“I’m not asking you to excuse his behavior. All I’m asking is that you give him a chance. He’s been screwed up for a long time, been carrying around a boatload of hate and guilt. He needs you, Rayne. And he needs his baby.”
“He can’t be a father if he’s not even in the same state. Trent made his decision. He finally has the career he’s always dreamed of. The baby and I were never part of that dream.”
After planning a lunch date for the following week, Rayne hung up, feeling confused and overwhelmed.
***
One of the benefits of owning a fitness studio was always having time to work out. Rayne didn’t look twenty-four weeks pregnant. She had energy again and could still keep up with her intense Zumba class but knew in a few months, or weeks, she’d need to teach the moderate level classes. Thyme had been a godsend, filling in at the counter and teaching classes as well.
Next week would be her slowest of the year, the week between Christmas and New Year’s. Too soon to worry about dieting and too busy to think about working out. The mad rush would come in January when women made their New Year’s res
olutions. Rayne used this time to study prenatal yoga and Pilates; she’d advertise the new offerings with her New Year specials. She proofed the ad one more time and then attached it to her email, sending it to the local newspapers.
Shutting down her laptop, she rolled her shoulders a few times and lifted her hands above her head, stretching out the kinks in her neck and shoulders.
“Long day?”
Rayne nearly fell out of her chair.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” Trent stretched his arms above his head, resting his fingertips on the molding above the door. His frame filled the doorway quite nicely, his jeans hanging low on his narrow hips, his Patriots sweatshirt rising just enough to tease her with a glimpse of his hard stomach.
“What do you want?” She didn’t mean to sound so cross but she didn’t like the way her body responded to him. Claire had said Trent hinted at coming home for Christmas, yet he hadn’t contacted her about it. So much for him wanting to be involved. Still, he made her knees weak with lust, even if she hated how much he hurt her.
He had the audacity to smirk. “Is that the hormones talking or are you still mad at me?”
“My hormones are fine.” She hoisted herself out of her chair and grabbed her winter jacket, pulling her arms through and zipping it up to her neck. “I’m on my way out. Whatever you want will have to wait.”
“Where are you going?” He stayed in the doorway, blocking her exit.
“None of your business.”
“Can I tag along?”
“No.”
“Don’t you have another doctor’s appointment coming up?”
“Maybe.”
“Can I come?”
“No.”
Trent lowered his arms and sighed. “I’m trying, Rayne. I don’t know what else to do.”
“You’ve done enough already.” She pushed past him, trying not to notice the alluring scent of vanilla and testosterone. Unfortunately, he followed her to the parking lot.
“You can’t continue to avoid me like this. I want to do the right thing here, Rayne, and you’re not making it very easy. You keep pushing me away like this and maybe next time I won’t come back.”
She stopped in her tracks and turned to him. “That,” she stabbed her finger into his chest, “is exactly why I want you to stay out of my life.” Rayne got in her car, jabbed the key in the ignition, and peeled out of the parking lot.
***
Trent
“What the hell, Brian? I can’t handle her hormones. Was Claire this messed up when she was pregnant?”
Trent tipped back his mug of beer and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. The New England Patriots were down by two with a minute left to go but Trent wasn’t worried. He knew a perfect spiral would make it into the hands of the wide receiver and they’d win the game. Too bad he didn’t have the Pats’ record.
“Did she talk in rhymes and not make any sense either?”
Brian let out a grunt and grimaced. “Oh, that had to hurt. Get up, dude. There you go.”
“Hey! You listening to me?” Trent punched Brian’s shoulder.
“Yeah. Just a minute. Game’s almost—oh, yeah! Touchdown!” Brian and the rest of the patrons in the bar let out loud cheers. How could these morons care about a stupid football game when Trent’s life was going down the shitter?
Damn. The extra estrogen must be contagious. Trent was a walking Lifetime movie. He decided to let Brian come down from his Patriot-winning high before he continued with the girly talk.
They finished off their plate of potato skins, ordered another round of Bud, and haphazardly watched the start of the Jets game.
“Dude. Someone run over your puppy?” Leave it to Brian to make light of his situation.
“You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?”
“I heard you pissing and moaning. Not sure how I can help you. Claire and I weren’t in the same situation as you and Rayne. We actually admitted we loved each other, spoke to each other. Were married. Wanted a kid. Lived in the same time zone. Whole nine yards. You, my friend, have done none of the above.”
The light bulb above Trent’s head went off. “You’re on to something there. Thanks, man.” Trent slapped Brian’s back, tossed a few bills on the table, and left. He had a plan. Finally. There’d be no way Rayne would refuse him now.
***
Trent brought Faith along when he’d asked Rayne to spend Christmas day with him but she didn’t even take two seconds to think about it. She held the baby, kissed her a dozen times, nuzzled her mouth in the child’s neck—oh, how he wished he was Faith—and handed her back to him and said, “I’m spending the day with my family,” before closing the door in his face.
Total rejection. And he didn’t give up. After eating his fill of brunch at Brian and Claire’s and watching his sister open Faith’s presents, he said his goodbyes and headed over to Rayne’s.
Sweaty palms turned off his ignition and pocketed his keys. He looked over to the passenger seat, picked up the small package wrapped in red and silver shiny paper and let out a long sigh. Now or never.
The walk to Rayne’s apartment door felt more like death row than a trip down memory lane. But this is what she wanted. He’d do anything for her. Hearing the faint sound of Christmas music and feminine laughter, he knocked lightly on the door. The conversation stopped and he soon heard footsteps approaching. Plastering on his good ol’ boy charm, he leaned in as the door opened and kissed her on the lips. “Merry Christmas, beautiful.”
“Merry Christmas, asswipe.”
Recognizing the voice, Trent pulled back quickly. “Sage.”
“Trent.”
“Expecting someone else?” She smiled sweetly.
“Who is it?” Rayne asked from behind her.
“Wrong number.”
Trent pushed past the domineering sister and stopped only inches from Rayne.
“What is he doing here?” she asked Sage, not looking at him.
“Dunno. I think he was hoping to get lucky. He kissed me, but I pushed him away.”
Trent rolled his eyes. “I was expecting you to open the door. Merry Christmas,” he said softly.
Rayne crossed her arms in defiance, inadvertently pulling her white sweater taut over her belly. Sweat formed on his forehead and beaded above his lip. He had everything planned out on the drive over but he didn’t expect her sisters to still be here. Or to feel so unwelcomed.
“Uh, can we talk?” His hands begged to reach out and touch her, feel her soft ivory skin, smell her citrus scent.
“About?” Rayne’s wild, dark eyes glared at him.
Trent cleared his throat and pulled at the neck of his sweater, suddenly feeling tightness around his neck. He glanced at the drill sergeant behind him and saw Thyme peeking around the corner, a glass of wine in her hand and a soft smile on her face.
“I’d like to hear what he has to say,” she said before draining her wine.
“Stay out of it, Thyme,” Rayne growled.
The way he figured it, Trent had three options—a) Get Rayne alone so he could talk to her in private. Feeling the daggers in his back, he figured Sage wouldn’t let that happen. b) Include all three girls in his speech, hoping young, carefree Thyme would vouch for him. c) Run like hell.
Option C sounded the best but he couldn’t bail now. Feeling like a cornered, helpless puppy, he went with Option B. “Uh, can we sit down?”
Rayne didn’t deny his request and didn’t stop him as he edged past her, winking at Thyme and making himself comfortable on the sofa. It was just like Rayne to put her heart into the holiday. The apartment smelled like pine and cranberry, and not an inch of surface space could be seen under the array of snowmen and Santa Claus figurines. Bright white lights twinkled from the oversized Christmas tree and a modern day singer he couldn’t place sang “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” from the stereo. Piles of baby toys surrounded the tree. Trent gulped.
“’Kay, Grinch. Tell us why you
’re trying to steal our Christmas.”
He felt like telling Sage she was the pot calling the kettle black, but didn’t think getting into a fight with her right now would do anything for his cause. Ignoring the Ghost of Christmas Past, Trent smiled at Rayne and tapped the cushion next to him. “Will you sit, please?”
Sighing in compliance, she moved to the couch and sat as far away from him as possible. She crossed her legs, and the adorable candy cane striped socks covering her feet peeped out from under her loose pants. Would she dress their kids in matching holiday outfits every year? Kids? As in plural? Where the hell did that thought come from? Damaging one human being would be punishment enough. He couldn’t father another.
Shaking off the thought, he brought himself back to the situation at hand. He licked his lips and opened his mouth but no words would come out. Fear trickled down his spine. Trent Kipson didn’t do forever, but this wasn’t about himself. He needed to get past his selfishness and do the right thing.
“Marry me,” he blurted out.
Sage coughed, Thyme whistled, and Rayne didn’t breathe. Okay, so not the most romantic proposal; she knew he didn’t do romance. Still, he could do better. He inched closer to her on the couch and she stiffened. Trent picked up her limp hand. “We get along great. Have the same interests. Have amazing sex.” Thyme giggled. That was good, right? “I don’t know how to be a father or husband but I’ll do whatever you need me to do. I’m taking responsibility for you and…the baby. We can make this work. You can move to California.”
He covered all his bases but the room still felt frigid. Picking up the box that he set on the coffee table, he handed it to Rayne. She leaned back and crossed her arms so he opened it slowly, revealing a nice piece of bling the saleslady said would impress any woman.
“Oh my God.” Thyme was impressed.
“Oh shit.” Sage was not.
Sweet on You (The Wilde Sisters #1) Page 16