The Child Between Them (Men Of Mulhany Crossing Book 2)

by Helen Lacey

  In the last few days he’d thought more about Holly than he had his wife. Natural, he supposed. Holly was having his baby. Lynette was gone. But it still didn’t sit right. Still made resentment settle in his belly.

  He sighed, turned, and headed back to his store.

  *****

  Crazy.

  Holly knew she was asking for trouble by spending more time with Marshall.

  But he had a point.

  They did need to form an alliance of sorts. Or at the very least, a truce.

  And it wasn’t a date. It was dinner. They could talk about the baby and discuss things like visitation and shared custody and babysitting duties and names and issues that were about the child they would share.

  She could do that.

  Maybe it would help put him in friend-zone…make it easier to stop imagining that she had other feelings for him. And to get any thoughts she had about being stupidly in love with him, out of her head.

  She had a restless week, battling fatigue and the onset of morning sickness that hit her at random times. Really, it should be called anytime sickness. By the time Friday afternoon came around she was grateful to have the following three days off.

  She got home just after five and showered and changed into fresh jeans and a light weight pale green sweater. She dabbled with a little makeup and in the end settled for a little mascara and lip gloss. She brushed her hair until her scalp hurt and let it hang down her back. She planned on watching T.V for an hour or so when her phone rang.

  It was her father.

  Holly’s hand immediately came to her belly. “Hi, Dad.”

  “Hey, kiddo. How you doing?”

  “I’m good. How about yourself?”

  “Back hurts,” he said and chuckled. “But no use complaining. So, you had enough of living in the ass-end of nowhere yet?”

  Her decision to move to Mulhany Crossing—albeit for just twelve months—was a constant source of disappointment for her father. He wanted her home. Holly knew it was about control, since Colin Berrigan had been emotionally absent most of her life. He was good at delivering demands, but poor at discussing feelings.

  “I like it here, Dad.”

  “You belong here,” he insisted. “Your brothers and I want you to come home.”

  He always pulled out the ‘brothers’ card when he wanted to get his own way. She knew Alistair and Ben would prefer her to be under their protective eye, but they rarely resorted to telling her what to do, unlike her father.

  “I can’t at the moment,” she said vaguely. “In fact I’ve extended my contract for another six months,” she said quickly, figuring there was little point in denying it.

  “You did what?”

  It went down as well as she expected and Holly spent the following ten minutes listening to her father’s complaint about her lack of family commitment and how she was letting the family down. She’d heard it all before…but it still hurt.

  “I have to go, Dad,” she said quickly. “I’ll call you next week and explain.”

  “How about you explain now and—”

  “Bye, Dad. Love you.”

  She didn’t wait for him to say he loved her in return. He never did. Declarations of love weren’t Colin’s style. Holly shook herself off, grabbed her tote and headed out. It was dark, but since Marshall only lived a few streets away, she was pulling up outside his house a few minutes later. His place was small, but neat, and she knew he’d inherited the place from an elderly relative. She’d been out to his cattle property once since she’d arrived in town, with Sam to tend to a colicky horse. It was big and impressive and the large home, with its wraparound veranda and shuttered doors, looked incredibly livable. She also knew a caretaker mostly looked after the place, since Marshall spent most of his time in town these days. It wasn’t hard to figure that there were too many memories associated with the home, and that’s why he avoided returning.

  It’s none of my business what he does…

  Which was good advice she needed to take.

  Marshall was loping down the path as she pulled up and he quickly opened the gate. Reggie bounded toward her, begging for a greeting and she patted him as she moved through the gate.

  “He gives quite the welcome,” she said and smiled, picking the faint trace of Marshall’s cologne, or soap, or whatever it was he used that seemed to attach itself to her pheromones whenever she was in a six-foot radius.

  Marshall smiled and her stomach flipped over. He looked so good in dark chinos and a black shirt that fitted him like a glove. His hair was damp and she had a sudden mental image of him in the shower, water sluicing over his broad shoulders and down his chest and down further past his flat belly and…

  “Everything okay, Holly?”

  She swallowed hard and got her mind back onto the present, and off him being naked, or soapy, or anything else. “Yeah…good.”

  He invited her inside and she followed quietly, cursing her foolishness. She really should have known better. Hanging around Marshall was a big mistake.

  As expected, his house was neat and clean and furnished with quality pieces and very little bric-a-brac. A far cry from her own eclectic home, with its yard sale sofa and mismatched chairs.

  And he had the biggest television she had ever seen.

  “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that size doesn’t matter,” she said as she dropped her tote beside the sofa and looked around at the spotless room. The only thing out of place was the half-chewed wicker dog bed.

  “Size matters,” he said and grinned. “The bigger the better.”

  “Are we still talking about TVs?”

  “You tell me,” he quipped. “You’re the one with the dirty mind.”

  “I do not!” she admonished and laughed. “I’ll have you know I’m considered something of a prude amongst my friends.”

  “Since you hang out with a nun on Mondays, I find that easy to believe.”

  “Ex-nun,” she corrected. “And how do you know that I usually spend Mondays with Julie?”

  “Monday is errand day,” he explained and flicked some music on. “You know, banking, the supermarket, that kind of thing. In this town, you’re hard to miss.”

  Holly flicked her hair and sighed. “It’s the red hair, right? The bane of my life.”

  “Your hair is beautiful,” he said and met her gaze. “And a complete turn-on.”

  She sucked in a breath and color smacked her cheeks. It was the closest they had come to acknowledging what was still between them. Heat. Awareness. Sex.

  Because it was still there. Still drawing them together like invisible elastic, stretching, pulling, and completely messing with her good sense. Holly knew she needed to snap out of it. Pronto.

  “So, what’s for dinner?” she asked casually. “Nothing too spicy, I hope. This kid of yours has been giving me grief all week.”

  For a moment he looked startled by her words, then he frowned. “You’ve been sick?”

  She nodded. “A little. Morning sickness. Afternoon sickness.” She grinned. “Evening sickness.”

  He reached out and touched her face, almost involuntarily, his fingers tracing her cheek for the barest of seconds. “Why didn’t you call me? I would have—”

  “I’m fine,” she assured him. “A little nausea is perfectly normal.”

  His hand dropped. “Did you see the doctor?”

  She nodded. “Yes. I have some anti-nausea medication now and feel much better today. But I think I should forgo any spicy food.”

  “Nothing spicy,” he said softly. “I promise. And next time you go to the doctor, Holly, let me know and I’ll come with you, okay?”

  Holly took a breath and nodded again. Sharing doctor’s appointments seemed impossibly intimate and like something that two people who were a couple did together. Not two strangers. Perhaps that was all part of his plan for them to become friends. To make the hard things easier.

  “You have a lovely home,” she said and looked around
. “Very…you.”

  He grinned. “You mean predictably low-key and ordinary.”

  She shook her head. “It’s nice. You spend a lot of time here?”

  He shrugged. “I guess. I don’t get back to my other property as much as I should. But with the store being in town…” He exhaled heavily. “It’s easier staying here.”

  “Fewer memories?”

  “No memories,” he replied and invited her to join him in the kitchen.

  Holly followed and seconds later they were standing on opposite sides of an island bench. The granite tops, white cabinets and black tiling was modern and stylish. “Lovely.”

  “I had the kitchen remodeled a few months ago, but the rest of the house is original. The back fence needs some work. When my aunt owned the place she had a huge fig tree cut down and the stump needs to be pulled. Once that’s done the back neighbor and I can get the fence fixed. Come to think of it, Sam keeps promising to come over and help.”

  She smiled. “That sounds like Sam. He’s one of the good guys.”

  “Yeah,” he said, ignoring the way his gut twitched at the way she spoke so highly of his friend. “So, what would you like to drink?” he asked and opened the refrigerator. “I’m betting wine is off the menu. But ice-tea? Ginger beer?”

  “Ice-tea,” she said and perched herself onto one of the counter stools. “You know, you can be very charming when you put your mind to it.”

  He met her gaze and smiled. “Gee…thanks.”

  “I mean it,” she said and tapped her fingertips on the counter top. “Maybe we will become friends, after all.”

  He poured her a drink and passed it across the counter. “A woman friend?” He made a face and then grinned. “Why not. It sure beats hanging out with Sam and Levi on a Friday night.”

  “I imagined you’d have female friends lining up at your door,” she said, both brows raised.

  “Not one,” he replied and started pulling bowls from the refrigerator. “Well, except for Levi’s sister, Lana. But she’s more like a sister than a friend. And Nate’s wife, Joley…but again, it’s easier to be friends when you’re part of a couple.”

  Holly nodded, relaxing a little as he spoke, thinking how much she liked listening to the deep, almost husky tone of his voice. “I don’t think I’ve ever been a real couple. I mean, I had a boyfriend when I was younger, but we never lived together or anything that serious. And we never talked about marriage or commitment. Maybe I’m not the marrying kind.”

  He frowned. “I’m sure you’ll get married one day.”

  Holly’s insides crunched. God, he was obtuse. “Did you like being married?”

  “Yes, very much. But then again, Lynette made it easy.”

  She glanced at the wedding band he still wore. “You’re lucky to have known that kind of love.”

  He stilled. “And what kind of love is that?”

  She shrugged. “Oh, you know, when someone is truly the love of your life. When it’s everything…when it’s friendship and companionship and passion and you just want to be with that person every second of every day. When they are the first thing you think about when you wake up and the last thing you think about when you go to sleep. When you just want to stand close and touch them, because not touching them actually hurts. And when sex is more than sex…when it’s more than making love…when it’s a connection so intense that it makes you feel like you’re the only two people on the planet.” She sighed, then took a breath, realizing her voice had actually quavered as she spoke. “I guess that’s what everyone wants.”

  He was looking at her oddly, his eyes appearing so dark she could barely see the iris. There was a pulse beating his jaw, and his hands were still. “I don’t think I…”

  His words, spoken so quietly she could barely hear them, trailed off and Holly perched herself forward. “You don’t think you, what?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing. So, how do you like your steak cooked? Rare? Medium?”

  “Well done,” she replied and shrugged.

  He grinned. “Peasant. I shall have to teach you how to enjoy steak that doesn’t taste like leather because it’s overcooked.”

  “Are you making fun of my immature palate?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She met his gaze. “I don’t like anchovies.”

  “I know. You told me.”

  “I don’t like avocado, either,” she said and smiled.

  “Then we have something in common,” he replied and grimaced. “Green slime.”

  Holly laughed. “Exactly. Maybe I am a peasant,” she said and sighed. “I mean, I like potatoes cooked any way, cheesy boy-band love songs and instant coffee.”

  Marshall’s gaze darkened and he grinned. “Me too,” he admitted. “Well, except for the boy-band thing.”

  Holly’s insides fluttered. It was so nice simply talking and laughing and she relaxed a little more as the minutes past. He really was good company. And nothing like the closed-off, somber loner she’d believed him to be. He was funny and charming and made her feel good.

  He cleaned up as he cooked, methodically and without fussing, and she admired the way he worked. They ate dinner in the kitchen. Steak, cooked just how she liked it, baked potato piled high with cheese and sour cream and bacon bits, and a salad that was so delicious she scooped herself another helping from the bowl once her plate was clean. And they talked. About anything. About Mulhany Crossing. About their jobs. About the weather. About his sister. About her brothers. He told her stories about his friends that made her laugh and she did the same.

  When she was finished she pushed the plate to the side and patted her belly, sighing contentedly. “I think I’m going to burst,” she said and laughed. “Like in Alien.”

  Marshall looked at her. “You like sci-fi?”

  “Mad for it,” she replied. “Any kind. From vintage Star Trek to the Marvel universe. I blame my two older brothers. You?”

  He got to his feet and held out his hand. “Come with me.”

  She stood, taking his hand, and waited for the familiar rush of awareness to attach itself to her nerve endings. It didn’t take long. Her belly fluttered. Her skin tingled. Her heart beat faster. She felt his nearness as though he were stroking her all over with his hands. When they reached the living room he led her to a long wall cabinet and opened the sliding doors. DVDs. Hundreds of them. With three entire rows dedicated to the sci-fi genre she loved.

  “Wow,” she said and whistled. “That’s quite a collection. If I didn’t know better, I might think that underneath your cowboy persona is a geek to the core.”

  He laughed, making her smile as he released her hand. “Don’t tell anyone, okay.”

  Holly chuckled and ran a fingertip along the spines. “So, can we watch something?”

  He looked surprised. “If you like.”

  “I like,” she flipped back and made a selection. “Classic Star Wars.”

  His brows came up. “It figures. The one with the big romance in it, right?”

  Holly shrugged and dropped the DVD into his hands. “I’m a girl,” she said and plonked onto the sofa. “Girls like romance.”

  He took a moment to get the movie organized and then excused himself, heading back to the kitchen. He returned a few minutes later carrying a glass of ice tea for her and a beer for himself. Once they were both settled on the sofa, with a cushion placed strategically between them, he got the movie started. As the familiar credits began to roll, Holly drank some tea and relaxed back in the seat.

  “For the record,” he said quietly, staring ahead at the huge screen. “I know you’re a girl, Holly.”

  She turned and admired his strong profile. He really was too gorgeous for words. The most attractive man she had ever known. And the father of her baby. Thinking about the child inside her womb made Holly touch her belly instinctively and he noticed the action immediately.

  “Everything okay?” he asked, his gaze narrowing.

  “Fine,” she
replied. “Just thinking that I’m having a nice time. So, thanks.”

  “See, I’m not all bad.”

  “I never thought you were bad,” she admitted and then stared straight ahead. “I’ve always—”

  “I know, Holly,” he said quietly, and suddenly she couldn’t hear the familiar music blaring from the speakers. She only heard his deep voice. “I should have been more considerate of your feelings. And I should have called you after we…afterwards.”

  “One-night-stand post mortems are obviously not your thing,” she said quietly, her throat unusually tight.

  “I’ve never had to have one. You were the first woman I’d been with since my wife passed away,” he admitted.

  “I figured that.”

  He made a self-derisive sound. “That bad, huh?”

  Holly turned hot all over. “God, no. You were just…sort of…intensely distant afterwards.”

  “What does that mean?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know…sort of…there…but not. You left pretty quickly that night.”

  He shrugged. “I have no excuse for my appalling behavior.”

  “Clearly it’s just a guy thing.”

  “Maybe.” Humorless laughter rumbled softly in his chest. “But the truth is, I’ve only ever had sex with one other person in my whole life. Lynette and I were together from when we were teenagers. And after she died…” he paused, taking a heavy breath. “I just didn’t want to fill that loss with a whole lot of meaningless sex.”

  “Except for me.”

  “It wasn’t meaningless, Holly,” he said quietly. “It was…incredible.”

  Of course, Holly had always felt that. But knowing he felt it too, filled her with a whole swag of emotions she couldn’t quite define. And for the countless time, she wished things between them were different. She wished she had the courage to tell him that for her, it was more than one-night-stand. Much more. But she knew Marshall wasn’t ready to hear that. He’d only known about the baby for a little over a week. They wouldn’t be spending the evening together if she hadn’t conceived his child. He’d made it clear he wanted to get to know her—to become her friend so they could have an effective and reasonable relationship to enable them to jointly raise their child. Holly didn’t have any illusions about Marshall’s motives.