by Diana Tobin
“He big.” Noah’s gaze traveled all the way up to JC’s still damp blond hair, then he looked behind the tall man. “Where da boy?”
Lynn squatted down to be at Noah’s eye level. “What boy, honey?”
“Boy play with me.”
She exchanged a quick look with JC before turning back to the toddler. “This is JC. He came to play with us. He’s going to eat supper with us, too.”
Keeping a firm grip on Lynn’s shirt, Noah looked at the man on the steps. “You big.”
Sitting on the top step, JC chuckled. “So I’ve been told.” He winked at Lynn and laughed when she blushed.
“Want to let him inside?” she suggested. “You boys can play while Emma and I fix supper.”
Noah turned big hazel eyes on her. “Wynn, Sissy can’t cook.”
Jiggling the baby in her arms, she answered the little boy in the same serious tone. “I know, sweetie. She’ll just keep me company. Why don’t you and JC see what you can make with your building blocks?”
“You got Legos?” JC asked in awe. At Noah’s nod, he added, “Cool, dude. Building stuff is one of my favorite things.”
Releasing Lynn, Noah grabbed JC’s hand. “’Mon. Dis way.”
Snuggling the baby, Lynn pressed kisses to her head. “How about you sit in your bouncy seat while I cook?”
No sooner had she placed the baby in the seat when Emma screwed up her face and let out a wail. Back in Lynn’s arms, Emma gave a contented sigh and her eyelids drooped.
“Okay, we’ll do this together,” she whispered to the baby.
Noah had requested hot dogs. Lynn didn’t mind, but she would grill them out on the porch and thought it would be nice to have their meal out there, too. She’d brought berries from JC’s farm and mixed them together as a sort of salad, thinking the little boy would be more inclined to eat fruit than an actual salad.
Lynn went to the end of the room where Noah and JC were sprawled on the floor with plastic blocks spread between them. “Could I interrupt for a moment? JC, would you please light the grill for me? Emma wants to be held, and I don’t want flames and lighter fluid around her.”
“Sure.” JC stood and gave Noah a wink. “Be right back, buddy.”
“No! Stay.” At JC’s frown, the child added, “Pease.”
“There’s a crib on the porch. She might stay asleep. You boys go back to your building.”
JC still hesitated. “Can you handle the grill?”
“No problem,” Lynn assured him. “We’ll be fine.”
“Give me the princess,” JC said sliding his hands under Lynn’s. “She can sit with me while you put the meal together. Right, buddy.”
“You still play with me?”
In answer, JC folded his long legs and plopped back down to the floor, holding the baby to his chest. “Emma’s just gonna watch. Where are the wheels for our truck?”
Lynn’s heart melted a bit more at the sight of the big man gently cradling the baby. She knew she’d found the man she wanted to father her child. Even if she couldn’t have JC forever, she’d always have a part of him in their child.
Now, she just needed him to agree.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Fall was fast approaching. Mornings and evenings held a chill warning of the ending of summer’s heat. The berries had been picked, leaving the bushes bare, ready to be trimmed for a winter’s rest. Lynn continued to cut sunflowers, placing them in the rusted milk can for sale and prepared for the pumpkins soon to come.
JC brought bales of hay, stacking them to her specifications. Some would be used to display the pumpkins, while others would provide seating for those who wanted to enjoy the autumn scenery. Using the paint spattered clothes she’d yet to throw away, she made a scarecrow holding on to the old wheelbarrow which would be filled with pumpkins.
Business at the farm stand had slowed as the seasons prepared to change. A few people stopped to buy Lynn’s cookies or place an order. Even more stopped for a chat. This gave Lynn plenty of time to work on her scrapbook gifts and dream about her own future.
It wouldn’t be cheap to have and raise a child, but she knew Webster was the ideal place. Her room above the coffee shop was small, but she wouldn’t need more space for a few years. When the time came, she’d speak to Wil about renting his house. Meanwhile, she kept thinking of ways to earn a living that allowed her time with her child.
Baking her cookies could be done any time of day or night. Her job at JC’s farm stand would soon come to an end for the season, but there was no reason she couldn’t have a baby with her while working out there during the summers. Maybe he’d be willing to let her use his stand for putting together and selling wreaths for the holidays.
She could do all these things to keep earning a living, and needed to speak to JC about her ideas. But the time had come for her to ask if he’d be willing to give her a child.
Lynn was in love with him, and her true heart’s desire was to be with him the rest of her life and give him many children. But, he’d given her no indication he wanted the same. Far too often he’d told her nothing lasts forever, as his mother and ex-wife had shown him. He kept reminding her to let him know when she no longer wanted to be with him. Lynn would be happy to be with him until she drew her last breath. Despite how caring he was and showing her what true love was like, she knew he didn’t feel the same. The more he talked about being honest about the end of their affair, the more convinced she was he was the one ready for it to end.
She’d once given up all for the man she loved, and slowly lost her own self-worth. She would never do that again. However, now she knew she’d never truly loved Donny for what she felt for JC was worlds beyond those old feelings. There wasn’t much she wouldn’t do for JC, but she couldn’t deny her own wants and needs.
Her request would either cement their future, or drive a wedge between them that might never be overcome.
○◊○
He watched her from the cover of the trees.
She went into the shack like she owned the place. Bitch! If she didn’t own it yet it was a sure thing she was spreading her legs so she would. He’d seen her going in and out of that big farm house up on the hill. Probably moved in there, living high, while he was left with shit.
He drank from the insulated coffee cup that held more whiskey than coffee. The liquor warmed as well, if not better, than coffee. It was getting too damn cold to be sleeping in his car. Not that the piece of crap he was left driving deserved the title. Even so, he’d had to “borrow” this one. Farm Boy and the bitch had ruined his beautiful car.
So what if the dealership had been about to repo it? That’s why he’d driven up to this godforsaken wilderness. He’d grovel a bit, Lynn would come back, and make up the payments. He’d planned to keep her until his life got back on track. Then again, seeing where she was living, she’d be grateful he rescued her.
Yeah, she’d caught him screwing someone else. If Lynn hadn’t become such a cold fish he wouldn’t have needed to dip his wick elsewhere. And, that Rebecca had been a hot little piece, but she was too busy looking out for herself. She was supposed to take care of him, not the other way around.
His life had been on track. He’d graduated nearly with honors. It didn’t matter that Lynn had provided the work for his success. She might not know what to do with that luscious body of hers, but she sure could use her brain. A few sweet words and she was doing the work for him. Planning their future, putting his needs before hers, most of the time. He’d had big plans for his future that didn’t include Lynn—or Becky. Now, those plans were ruined.
It was all the bitch’s fault.
He was going to make her pay.
He was tempted to give Farm Boy what he deserved, but he was a big son of a bitch. Just because he was a backwoods idiot didn’t mean his fists weren’t like ham hocks. Even that idiot brother of hers had broken his nose.
He frowned, thinking about the couple who’d been standing behind Lynn.
She’d called the man bro, yet the sister was living there, too. Hell, for all he knew they were all living and fucking together. Not his problem, but he could do the world a favor and get rid of the wackos.
They all needed to pay.
He tossed back another drink from his cup. He didn’t have to get his hands dirty. First, he’d take down the bitch who started his downward spiral. They’d all grieve over the loss of her. Just like he’d been grieving over his losses.
Maybe he’d take out the sister next. After he’d had a bit of fun with her first. Show her what it was like to be with a real man, not some slow talking dimwitted dude.
Taking out Farm Boy might take a bit of planning. He knew he was smarter than the blond oaf, and he’d use his brains to get the better of him. He’d teach the farmer to treat him like he was less than the mud beneath his boots.
Then, he might head west and start over. The land of sunshine and bikinis suited him to a T.
He chugged the last of his “coffee” and narrowed his eyes as he watched Lynn greet a gray-haired man who approached the ridiculous farm stand.
“That’s it, bitch. Smile pretty while you can.”
○◊○
“Honey, I’m home.” JC sang out the greeting in a very bad Latino accent as he kicked off his boots in the mud room. The days were getting shorter and he had some definite ideas about how he and Lynn could spend the long winter nights ahead.
“Hey, handsome.” Her smile spread across her face as she met him halfway.
He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up to meet his kiss. “Mmm,” he murmured against her lips. “That never gets old.” He went back in for a deeper kiss, then pressed his face to her neck. “What smells so good? Besides you.” He licked a pulse point and gently bit a cord in her neck. “Nothing smells as good as you, except for your scent on me.”
Lynn tightened her arms around his neck. “You say the sweetest, sexiest things.”
“You inspire me.” Slowly, he set her back on her feet, sliding her down the front of his body so there’d be no mistaking how much she inspired him.
“Dinner’s almost ready. I just need to grill the steaks. It might be the last time we can cook outside.” She slipped out of his arms to lead the way into the kitchen. “I do believe I saw frost on the pumpkins this morning.”
“You weren’t here early enough to see frost, but it won’t be long. You baked a cake?”
“Man cannot live by cookies alone.” She stuck her hands into two hot mitts and placed a plate over the top of the cake. “Pineapple Upside Down cake. Cross your fingers.” He moved behind her, placing his hands on her hips as she flipped the plate and pan over giving it a bit of a shake at the end. Slowly she lifted the pan. “Perfect,” she breathed.
JC slid his hands across her, pulling her back into him. “In every way,” he whispered in her ear.
She trembled, carefully set down the hot cake pan, and turned to face him. Framing his face in her hands, she pressed her lips to his. “I hope you always feel that way.”
Tucking her under his chin against his chest he gave a grunt of approval. “Can we have dessert first?”
“No. It needs to cool to room temp and be served with whipped cream.”
With a finger under her chin he lifted her face to meet his gaze. “There’s dessert and then there’s dessert.” He wiggled his eyebrows in a playfully suggestive manner.
Indecision crossed her face, then, she drew in a deep breath. “The grill is hot and I have some things to discuss with you.”
“We can discuss them naked.” He ran a finger along the edge of her vee-necked shirt.
“You’re too distracting naked.” She lifted up to press a kiss to the hollow of his throat.
His grin was quick. “I’ll remember that for future discussions.” He let her go. “Do I have time for a shower?”
“If you make it quick. The steaks won’t take long.”
“Steak, huh. Are we celebrating something?”
Her lips spread in a shaky smile. “I hope so.”
JC raced up the stairs, stripping off his clothes as he went. His girl was nervous about something. Maybe that was it. Maybe she didn’t want to be his anymore. His gut felt like he’d been punched. No! She’d alluded to them celebrating something. They wouldn’t be celebrating their break up.
He made quick work of his shower before heading back downstairs in a pair of sweats.
“Perfect timing,” Lynn said, her words trailing off as she got a look at him. “Couldn’t you find any clothes?”
He took the meat laden plate from her hands, placing it on the table. Cupping the side of her face with one large hand, he leaned down to press a soft kiss to her nose. “You know I plan to get you naked once we’ve eaten and had our discussion. Why would I add layers when I want nothing between us?”
She closed her eyes briefly. “You don’t play fair.”
“Darlin’, who says I’m playing? Let’s eat.”
She gave a nod and began to dish up the food. “I brought a few pumpkins down to the stand today. How do you normally put them out for sale?”
“I go out in the field and fill a wheelbarrow, then set them at the stand. Why?” He cut into his steak and gave a groan of approval.
“I was thinking if that wagon in the barn is serviceable, we could charge for hayrides and take customers out to the fields. They could pick their pumpkins, load back up in the wagon, and you deliver them back to the stand. You’d make money not just from the sale of the pumpkins, but also the wagon ride. We might be able to expand on the hayrides for leaf peepers.”
JC stared at her. “That’s a great idea. Moving those pumpkins around so much gets old real fast.” He leaned over to give her a smacking kiss. “A wonderful cook, hard worker, and great ideas. Honey, you are a winner.”
Her cheeks turned pink and her smile showed her pleasure. “We could sell spiced cider and cookies at the stand when folks come back from the hayride.”
“You keep this up,” he pointed at her with a chunk of steak on his fork, “we’re gonna need to remodel that stand. You need power down there and more room for whatever you want to make.”
“That would be wonderful. I’ve been toying with the idea of wreaths and things for the holidays. Once I figure out how to do them, if we expanded, we could hold craft days. You know, let people come in and make their own, with a little guidance.”
JC polished off the last bite of his meal and reached for her hand. “I like the sound of that we. We’d have to be partners, because I can’t do any of that crafty stuff, but I sure like the ideas you’re coming up with.”
“Good.” She pressed a hand to her belly. “I have something I want to ask you. It’s a favor, really. D-don’t give me your answer tonight. I want you to give it some thought. If you feel you can’t, or don’t want to, just say so. It’s fine. I don’t expect you to be obligated. You can be involved as much or as little as you want. You probably won’t want to be involved, later, because…well, because. But that’s okay. This is something I want for me. I know it’s selfish, which is why you don’t have to feel you have to participate later.”
He placed his fingers over her mouth to stop the flow of words. “Sweetheart, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I think you better just ask me. You know I’d do just about anything for you, don’t you?”
Her shoulders slumped in what he thought was relief as she nodded. “Right. Sorry. I’m nervous, so I was babbling.”
JC held both her hands in his and scooted his chair around so their knees touched. “Tell me, honey.”
“I want you to get me pregnant.” Her eyes were shining. “I want to have your baby.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
There was a buzzing in his ears. Maybe Lynn had hit him with a heavy pan. Or, maybe it was worse. “Are you telling me you’re pregnant?”
“Ow! No. JC, you’re hurting me.”
He thought the meal he’d just eaten with such relish was a
bout to come back up. Lynn’s pain-filled face turned into Suzanne’s sly expression. Her voice got through to him as she tugged at her hands.
“What are you saying? What kind of trap have you laid?” Lynn flinched, but he didn’t care.
“I’m not trapping you. I’m saying I want a baby. Your baby.”
Again, he was seeing Suzanne’s face, her look of disappointment mixed with hope. I’m pregnant, JC. I know we hadn’t talked about the future, but I’m having your baby. Our love has created a new life. She’d pressed his hand to her flat belly as her eyes filled with tears.
He hadn’t understood. He’d always been careful. Suzanne swore she was on the pill, and he always used a condom. Always. Yet, he’d gotten her pregnant.
So she swore.
They’d made plans to be married immediately. He’d redecorated the master bedroom and bath for her, fixing it just the way she wanted. After the wedding he was going to turn the room next door into a nursery.
His wedding night had been unconventional, to say the least. He’d cautioned Suzanne against drinking champagne at their reception, saying it wasn’t good for the baby. She’d insisted it was good for her. She was weaving slightly when they made their way to his farmhouse that night. They were leaving for Montreal the next day to begin their honeymoon.
JC had helped Suzanne to the bedroom and painstakingly undid all the buttons down the back of her wedding gown. Once he’d slipped it off her shoulders, she’d doubled over and dashed to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. No amount of pounding or pleading had made her open the door to him.
Sometime later, she’d emerged, wrapped in a silky robe, pale and shaky. She’d miscarried, she said.
JC wanted to take her to the hospital, but his bride refused. She hadn’t been that far along, she said. She just needed rest.
Picking her up, he tucked her into bed, sliding in beside her to hold her close so they could mourn the loss of their child together. Within a few minutes, she’d asked if he couldn’t sleep elsewhere. She couldn’t rest with him hanging over her. She needed to be alone.