The Detective's 8 lb, 10 oz Surprise

by Meg Maxwell

  He pressed her down on the couch, vaguely aware that behind her head was the sleeve of a onesie with little blue anchors on it. He felt her hands on his shoulders, lower down his back, up his chest, and he pressed against her, then pulled away and looked at her. “Is it safe? I won’t hurt the baby?”

  She smiled at him, pulling him back against her. “It’s absolutely fine.”

  He tugged off her skirt, mesmerized for a moment by the white cotton underwear. He kissed her, raising her hands over her head to clasp them in one of his while the other edged down those ridiculously sexy panties. In seconds he was out of his jeans and naked. He needed to be inside her. Now.

  She gasped as he entered her and he captured her mouth in a kiss, then buried his face in her neck as he fought for control of the sensations rocking his body. It had been so long. So long before Georgia, so long since.

  He felt her nails scrape into his back and suddenly he couldn’t control himself any longer. She moaned long and loud, and that was the last straw. Everything inside him exploded and he shuddered, then again, burying his face in her neck, gripping her hair, his breaths coming in ragged release.

  But then he felt her arms around his neck, holding him close, keeping him close. And all he wanted to do was get away. His skin began to feel tight. Uncomfortable. Very, very uncomfortable. This was Georgia Hurley, the woman he’d fallen so damned hard for in one night. The woman who was pregnant with his child. And yet he couldn’t be what she wanted, what she needed.

  He had to get up. He needed air. He needed to gulp some air.

  Just stay here, he ordered himself. Do not move. Do not get up. Just deal with how uncomfortable this feels. Did you or did you not just give Georgia a pep talk on strength? Show some, you damned coward.

  The claustrophobic sensation built until he couldn’t take it anymore. His skin itched. His nerve endings prickled. Every rise and fall of Georgia’s chest made breathing almost a struggle.

  “I think I heard Timmy cry,” he said like a jerk, getting up and shrugging into his jeans. He didn’t look at Georgia, unwilling to see the expression on her face.

  Cold bastard, he told himself. What the hell is wrong with you?

  He knew what was wrong with him. He’d told her what was wrong with him. But he still felt like hell about it. And he had a terrible, terrible feeling that she did too.

  Chapter Nine

  For the hundredth time that morning, Georgia called herself a big fool. She stood in the kitchen at Hurley’s, washing the last of the cookie trays, scrubbing furiously. She was hurt, yes, but she was more mad at herself. Hadn’t she told herself to stay away from Nick Slater—romantically speaking? That he was a brick wall? That he’d told her loud and clear how he felt about love and marriage and family? She wasn’t going to get her heart all tangled up with a man who couldn’t, wouldn’t love her back, who didn’t want to marry her or to be a family man.

  Yet she had. She shook her head at what a dummy she was. She thought about how James Galvestan, that predator, hadn’t announced himself as someone who’d ruin her life. You’d think that a man who’d practically shouted from the rooftops that he was going to break her heart in a million pieces was someone she’d keep her distance from. Instead, she handed over her heart to Nick Slater.

  He already had it, a little voice inside amended, cutting her a break. He had it since the day he knocked on your door in Houston. Tears pricked her eyes, and Georgia blinked them away, then shut off the faucet and dried her hands. Danged hormones.

  She glanced over at Timmy in his carrier on the table. He was awake and alert, watching the pale yellow stars and moons of the little mobile that hung down from the canopy of the carrier.

  “Let’s get you home and I’ll read you a story,” she said to him, his slate-blue eyes on her. She couldn’t help thinking about his mother, who had to be missing Timmy with every fiber of her being. Just a few days with the little guy and she was hopelessly in love and so attached to him. She couldn’t even imagine the pain his mother was going through.

  Georgia put back the last of the baking ingredients, and with four pies, three cakes and a few dozen cookies baked and stored for the lunch and dinner crowds, she headed back to Nick’s house, wheeling Timmy in his little stroller. She wondered how Nick would act, if he’d say anything about last night.

  Across the street she saw the Andersons wheeling their own baby. Little Mikey’s red wisps made Georgia smile. Not that the smile lasted long. She couldn’t help noticing how Annie’s arm was looped around Mike’s as he pushed the stroller, how happy they both looked.

  Georgia would be pushing her baby stroller alone. Her baby’s father wouldn’t even be in Blue Gulch.

  Fool, she yelled at herself. When he kissed you last night, you should have run screaming for the door. Instead, you kissed him right back and practically tore off his clothes. And spent the rest of the evening alone in her room, save for Timmy, her heart smushed, the sting of rejection as fresh in the morning as it had been when he got up and walked away. And stayed away.

  Four months ago, when she’d given herself to Nick, she’d been deeply in love with him. That might sound crazy, but in those hours with Nick, everything she’d ever thought and dreamed about love was how she felt in his arms. Just his face, the look in his eyes, triggered something inside her, made her unable to take her eyes off him. She felt a connection to him that she’d never felt before. And in his arms, she felt safe.

  Now she’d let her guard down, had been unable to resist him, and the floodgates had opened. She was deeply in love with Nick Slater and wished with everything inside her that he’d want what she wanted—the family she was offering him.

  So keep working on him, a determined voice inside her said. Keep up what you’ve been doing. Asking him to hold Timmy. Feed Timmy. Open his floodgates.

  But “Operation Get Used to Fatherhood” didn’t seem to be working. Nick meant so much to the people of Blue Gulch, but none of that seemed to matter to him either. He wanted out. He was a lone wolf.

  Except weren’t wolves pack animals? Didn’t they need a pack?

  Georgia and their son were his pack.

  She wasn’t sure how she’d convey that to Nick, but she’d try. Her new motto was “try,” wasn’t it? You didn’t just take your licks. You did something about them.

  Chin lifted, Georgia headed up the drive to Nick’s house, stopping short when she realized an unfamiliar car was in the driveway, parked next to Nick’s SUV.

  Timmy’s mother? Had she come back?

  Georgia hurried to the door and let herself in.

  “You don’t understand anything!” she heard a female voice shout.

  “Oh, I understand perfectly!” she heard Nick shout back.

  Curiosity piqued, Georgia parked Timmy in his stroller by the door, and since he was napping, she let him be. She tentatively walked into the living room.

  Nick and a younger female version of himself, both with arms crossed against their chests and matching scowls, stood glaring at each other until they noticed her.

  “Georgia,” Nick said, “This is my sister, Avery. Avery, Georgia Hurley.”

  Avery’s pretty face lit up. “Oooh, you’re a Hurley? Of Hurley’s Homestyle Kitchen?”

  Georgia nodded. “My grandmother owns it. I’m the new baker.”

  “I love Hurley’s!” Avery said. “I had my first date with Quentin there! I could live on the mac and cheese for the rest of my life.”

  Georgia smiled. “I did as a kid,” She reached out her hand to shake Avery’s. Again she was struck by how much they looked alike. Avery was tall and lanky with long, straight dark hair and blunt bangs. Her dark eyes were softer than Nick’s, and her complexion even paler. She was startlingly pretty. She wore silver rings on every finger and a long, floaty black skirt with a fitte
d silver tank top. Her toenails were painted a sparkly, iridescent light blue.

  “Key word here is kid,” Nick said. “You’re a kid, Avery. And kids get foolish notions in their heads.”

  Oh boy. This must be where Georgia had come in. The argument.

  “I’m not a kid!” Avery said, hands on hips. “I’m eighteen and know my own mind. I want to sing, Nick. I want to try for a music career. I have to follow my heart.”

  Nick shook his head. “What you have to do is use common sense. If you want a music career, great, be a music major at college like you planned. You’ll become a music teacher. Remember Ms. Finch at the high school? She still walks around town singing. She sings in groups and performs in clubs, but she has a steady, solid job.”

  “Quentin says—”

  Nick frowned. “I don’t care what Quentin says!”

  “Yes, Nick, I know,” Avery shouted back, narrowing her eyes at her brother. “But I do. He’s supportive of my dreams.”

  Nick seemed to realize his combative approach was getting him nowhere. He let out a breath and walked a bit closer to his sister “Avery, I’m supportive of your dreams too. But I want you to be smart about how you go about those dreams.”

  Now it was Avery’s turn to shake her head. “I have a plan, Nick. I’ve really thought this through. I know college was important to you and I let you talk me into it. But I don’t want to be there. I want to become a country singer. And that means moving to Nashville.”

  Was that red smoke coming out of Nick’s ears?

  Georgia cleared her throat. “Nick, Avery, I’m sorry that I barged in on this family conversation. I should let you two talk privately.”

  Avery lifted her chin. “I’ve said everything that needs to be said. Quentin and I are leaving for Nashville on Sunday morning.” With that, she walked past Georgia with a friendly nod toward the front door. “Mr. Whiskers,” she called out, glancing around. “Where are you, boy? Come say goodbye—for now.” The little black-and-white cat ran over and Avery scooped him up and nuzzled him, then she put him down. “Don’t worry, Mr. Whiskers, of course you’re coming with us when we move to Nashville.”

  Nick let out a long, hard sigh and turned to face the windows.

  “Did y’all know there’s a baby over here?” Avery called.

  “Yes,” Georgia said, walking toward the door. “We’re watching Timmy for the week.”

  Nick walked over to the archway separating the foyer from the living room. “Actually, Avery, we’re watching Timmy for the week because Timmy’s mother left him in my care with an anonymous note. I have no idea who she is or why she left him with me. All I know is that she’s clearly in some kind of trouble, either emotionally or financially or criminally. And running off to Nashville with Quentin the philosopher is going to mean you’re out there, no safety net, no security, who knows what can happen? Just like with Timmy’s mother.”

  Avery’s face clearly showed her exasperation. “So now I’m having a baby and leaving him with a police detective?”

  “One choice leads to another,” he said.

  Avery frowned. “Yes, my choice to give my dream a chance means it can happen.” With that she left.

  Nick let out an expletive, then walked back to the living room and dropped down on the sofa, his head back, as he stared at the ceiling.

  Oh boy.

  “She sounds pretty determined,” Georgia said.

  “What she sounds is young and silly.”

  Georgia wasn’t so sure about that. But she understood where Nick was coming from. And this was his kid sister. The kid sister he’d raised alone for the past two years, struggling to do right by her. Georgia would need to be careful with putting in her two cents.

  “It’s not like either of them has anything to fall back on. Quentin works in a bookstore, which he lives above, in a one-bedroom apartment. His parents retired to Washington State, but he insisted on staying here to be close to Avery. He wasn’t interested in college and considers himself ‘self-teaching.’ I’ll bet he’s been after Avery to quit college since she left.” He shook his head, anger in his expression.

  She figured she should let him sit with his thoughts, process the whole conversation. “I’ll go get Timmy,” she said, heading toward the foyer.

  He cleared his throat. “Georgia, about last night. I’m sorry if I seemed...”

  Cold? Unwilling to let someone in? Unable to break down steel barriers?

  She turned and waited, letting him squirm a bit, refusing to say oh, that’s okay or I get it. She wanted him to finish the sentence. She tilted her head.

  She watched him clamp his mouth shut. He wasn’t going to say anything else. He only wanted to bring it up to apologize for how he’d acted, but there wasn’t going to be a conversation.

  At least she was beginning to understand how he worked. After last night, how could she not?

  “I think I hear Timmy,” he said, looking beyond her toward the door where Timmy lay in his stroller.

  She almost smiled at how well she could read him. That was something. A smile instead of tears. But man, did she have her work cut out for her. She was not giving up on Nick so fast.

  * * *

  Nick had to get out of his house. Away from Georgia and how he’d handled things last night. Away from worrying about his sister ruining her life. He needed to focus on finding Timmy’s mother. He checked his notes, let Georgia know he was going out and walked over to Best Pizza Ever on the far end of Blue Gulch Street, where he knew he’d find John Martin, the owner, making pizzas for the lunch rush. As he crossed the street, he wondered what, exactly, he’d been planning to say to Georgia. I’m sorry if I seemed...

  Seemed like what? A bastard? He was acting like a real jerk lately.

  I don’t care what Quentin says!

  Okay, that hadn’t been so...mature. And he knew saying things like that would only put distance between him and Avery, and he didn’t want that. He loved Avery so much. He just wanted what was best for her.

  He thought finding Timmy’s mother was his most important mission? Suddenly, it had a rival: stopping his sister from making a huge mistake. Running off to Nashville to become a country singer. With her philosophy-spouting boyfriend.

  Hadn’t he said this would happen over his dead body?

  His sister was not moving to Nashville. She was not dropping out of college. It was Nick’s duty to make sure she was on a solid path. She needed a safety net beneath her. She needed options. Not chasing some crazy dream.

  His phone buzzed and he pulled it from his pocket. Text from Avery: Nick, Q and I think we should all get together and talk. Dinner tonight at Hurley’s? The 4 of us? Is Georgia your GF? I like her.

  Oh hell, he thought as he pulled open the door to the pizzeria. How was he supposed to talk sense into Avery with “Quentin Says” sitting right there and saying all of it, contradicting Nick? Who would she listen to? Her handsome boyfriend who supposedly knew everything or her older brother who really did know some things about life?

  The boyfriend would win.

  But maybe Nick—with Georgia’s help—could win the boyfriend over to Nick’s side. Yes, that was it. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that if he could get through to Quentin, make him see that Avery needed to stay in college, stay on her path, she would have more options down the road. And could always sing in the college chorus.

  “Uh-oh,” John Martin said the moment Nick walked into the pizza joint. “Someone keyed my car? Egged my apartment door? Wrote John Martin is a jerk in lipstick in a bar’s bathroom stall?”

  Nick raised an eyebrow. John was a twenty-eight-year-old lothario who’d dated most of the town’s young single women. With movie-star good looks, dimples and too much charm, John juggled three girlfriends at a time and twice had been pun
ched in the face for getting too flirty with someone’s wife. Nick had investigated quite a few vandalism incidents directed at John Martin’s belongings, including the big front window of the pizzeria, which had been smashed twice. By a spurned lover once and pissed-off ex-boyfriend of a new girlfriend twice. But Nick now realized that he hadn’t gotten a call from John about vandalism or assault in a few weeks. That was a record.

  “Actually, things have been quiet where you’re concerned,” Nick said. “Too quiet.” He narrowed his gaze on John. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love and only have one woman in your life?”

  John grinned and ladled sauce on the round pizza dough. “I don’t know about the love part, but I think some kind of weird sickness has come over me. I met someone and think about her all the time. I don’t even want to see any other women.”

  “Yeah, that’s called love,” Nick said.

  “Really?” John asked, his brow furrowing. “I’m in love? That’s what this is?”

  Nick half smiled, half rolled his eyes, wondering how John had gotten so far in life. He pulled out his phone and swiped to a photo of Timmy. “Do you recognize this baby?”

  John paused in spreading around the sauce. “Yeah.”

  Nick perked up. “From where?”

  “I see that pretty Hurley chick with that baby all the time.”

  Nick deflated again. “Had you ever seen this baby before seeing Georgia Hurley with him?”

  “Don’t all babies look alike?” John asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Really?” John asked. “Huh. That’s twice you blew my mind today, man.”

  Nick couldn’t help smiling. John was a character, all right. “Are you absolutely positive you haven’t gotten anyone pregnant lately? Say ten months ago?” He glanced at John’s very blond hair. “A dark-haired woman?”