Their Secret Baby Bond

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Their Secret Baby Bond Page 9

by Stephanie Dees


  He turned her to face him. “Listen to me, Wynn. This is important. She will feel secure because her security will be you. And you’ll have all of us as backup, just like Claire and Joe do. They don’t parent alone, and you don’t have to either.”

  Something eased inside at his words. “You’re really annoying, you know that?”

  A surprised laugh shot out. “I’ve been told that before.” He was silent for a minute, and when she looked up at him, she couldn’t read the expression on his face. Finally, he said, “I’ll always have your back, Wynn.”

  “You always have.” She said it lightly, but the words rocked her. “I have to go. Thanks for tonight, Latham.”

  She stood and started toward her car. He’d had her back every time one of her brothers tried to play tricks on her. Every time someone picked on her at school. Every time.

  Every time she’d needed him, he’d been there.

  Was it any wonder she’d fallen in love with him once? She glanced back at him. He was sitting in the same place, his elbows braced on his knees, head down, almost like he was praying.

  She wished she had the freedom to fall in love with him again.

  Chapter Nine

  Mayor Chip Campbell held the chair out for Wynn and she slid into place at the table. “I’m glad you could join me, Wynn. I’ve been following your career with interest. I have to say, I was surprised when you came home a few months ago.”

  She looked up as Lanna, her mom’s second in command at the diner, stopped by with a pitcher of water. “Thanks.”

  “I heard about Claire and Joe’s new baby, named after your dad. It’s just the sweetest.” Lanna filled the mayor’s glass and asked, “Okay, you folks ready to order?”

  Mayor Campbell motioned for Wynn to go first.

  “I want the Belgian waffle with bacon on the side.” She was starving and had decided at home while she was debating on what to wear to breakfast with the mayor that being herself was the best course of action. She’d chosen jeans and a cute top and was going to order exactly what she wanted.

  “With berries and whip?” Lanna had her pencil poised over her pad, even though Wynn well knew that she didn’t need the pencil or the pad.

  “Definitely.” There weren’t that many advantages to being pregnant, other than the baby at the end of it, but having an excuse to eat what you wanted without feeling guilty was one of them. After her emotional night last night, she wanted comfort food, the food she’d grown up with at the Hilltop Café.

  Mayor Campbell seemed torn. “I should be having oatmeal and berries, but I think I’m going to go with blueberry pancakes. I just can’t resist the temptation.”

  “Good choice, Mr. Mayor.” Lanna took their menus. “Coffee?”

  The mayor nodded. “Wynn?”

  “None for me, thanks. I’ll stick with water,” she said as Lanna reached behind her for the coffeepot.

  Chip stirred sugar into the coffee Lanna poured into his mug. “I’m happy you’ve gotten to spend some time in Red Hill Springs. Your mother has missed you.”

  “I’ve missed being here. More than I realized.” She said the words, a little shocked that they were true. She’d been so focused on leaving Washington, DC, that she hadn’t processed what coming home really meant to her.

  “And you’re planning to stay? I heard you’re renovating the cottage at Red Hill Farm.”

  Wynn took a sip of her water and replaced her glass on the table, giving herself a second to think. In the end, she asked lightly, “Does anything happen in Red Hill Springs without your hearing about it?”

  He chuckled as Lanna slid his pancakes onto the table, along with a small pitcher of warm maple syrup. “Not much, no. I like to think I have my finger on the pulse of the town, as they say.”

  Lanna came back a minute later with Wynn’s order, sliding it into place in front of Wynn. “Y’all let me know if you need anything, okay?”

  Chip took a bite of his pancakes and rolled his eyes back in his head. Wynn’s mom’s pancakes were the best in the state.

  “I don’t know why I ever order anything else. So...you are planning to stay in the area?”

  “To be honest, I’m not sure about the long term, sir. I don’t have any other plans at the moment.” She took a deep breath. “Well, other than to have a baby.”

  He glanced up in surprise, his fork suspended in midair. “Really?”

  She willed herself not to blush. “Yes. A baby girl. Due in a few months.”

  Behind his glasses, the mayor’s dark brown eyes were sharply direct on hers. “And the father?”

  “Not in the picture.” She took a sip of water as the heat crept up her neck.

  “I see.” The mayor abruptly noticed his empty fork was still hanging in the air and stabbed a bite of pancakes.

  She wondered if he did, indeed, see, or if he was racking his brain trying to figure a way out of breakfast with her.

  He didn’t leave her wondering very long. “So, Charlie McCurdy decided last week that he’s too old for—well, he decided to retire from the city council, effective at the end of the month. He has ten months left in his term. I’m hoping you’ll consider filling it.”

  Wynn blinked. Opened her mouth. Blinked again. “You want me to be on the city council?”

  His mouth full, Chip nodded.

  She put her fork down. “I don’t know what to say.”

  He lifted a shoulder and his coffee cup. “You don’t have to say anything now, if you want to think about it. I need to know by the end of next week, though, so I can go to my second choice.”

  She was his first choice? That was unexpected...and flattering. But Chip had obviously been surprised by her pregnancy. Would he have asked her if he knew before he was sitting across the table from her?

  Stomach churning, she had to ask before she could even think about taking the appointment. “Mayor Campbell, I’m so honored, but do you need to rethink your offer? My pregnancy will be showing soon.”

  He took another bite of his pancakes and chewed, not looking concerned at all. When he swallowed, he took a swig of coffee before he leaned back in his seat and tossed his napkin on the table. “Wynn, I’ve made it my policy not to let personal issues limit my political choices. You’re a brilliant strategist, according to several people I talked to in Washington. You know Red Hill Springs, and even more important, you care what happens here.”

  She slid her fingers into her hair, scratched her head and studied him in honest disbelief. She wanted to know whom he talked to in Washington, but that wasn’t a question she could ask, at least not now. “I’m floored. And really so honored that you would think of me.”

  He pushed away from the table. “Red Hill Springs is a small town. City council’s not a Senate seat, but it’ll be good experience for you. I won’t be mayor forever.”

  Wynn’s mouth dropped open as Chip picked up the check and patted her hand. Did he just suggest that she run for mayor when his term was up?

  “I’ll look forward to hearing from you, Wynn.” He stopped, then smiled. “Congratulations on the baby.”

  She found her voice. “Yes, sir.”

  As he paid the check and left the restaurant, she stared at the wall.

  Well, that was not what she expected. She’d thought they would be talking about mutual acquaintances and state politics. Instead, he’d offered her a job. If she took the job, it would mean staying in Red Hill Springs, probably for the long term. A decision she hadn’t been planning to make by the end of next week.

  So now what did she do?

  * * *

  That afternoon at Red Hill Farm, Latham rounded his truck and pulled down the tailgate. His subcontractors had finished the work on the outside of the cottage. The siding, in pearl gray, had been installed, and he was here for the finish work—hanging the porch swings
and shutters, and painting the front door. Which he would do if he could ever get Wynn to make up her mind on the color.

  The farm, as usual, was teeming with action. He brought Pop and Aunt Mae with him today because Pop insisted that the kids needed him to help with their math homework. He brought Aunt Mae because she wasn’t being left behind at the house while Pop was out doing things.

  His seventy-two-year-old aunt was currently keeping an eye on the toddlers who were racing their riding toys in the ballroom. She was also folding laundry as fast as Mrs. Matthews could do it because it piled up quickly with seven kids. To be honest, Latham had never seen such a huge pile of dirty laundry, and Claire had been in the hospital only one day.

  Pop was ensconced at the kitchen island with the teenagers, doing their math homework and calling out spelling words to Penny. The kids really responded to his easygoing, funny personality. Maybe it was that he treated them like they were the most special kids in the world.

  He’d always treated Latham like that, too.

  Wynn came out the back door wearing tiny baby Maureen in some wrap thing that looked like a papoose. She called across the yard. “Hey, can I help?”

  Latham raised an eyebrow. “I think you have your hands full enough.”

  He shouldered the stained board-and-batten shutters and started for the cottage, as she clambered down the stairs.

  She called after him. “I bought a couple more paint colors to test on the door.”

  “Of course you did.” This was not a surprise. There were already at least ten test paint colors in the house, waiting to be tried on the door.

  She was at his heels as he rounded the pond. “I left them on the porch. We’re going to try them today, yes?”

  He couldn’t turn around because he would whack her in the face with the shutters, but he grinned. She was relentless when it came to something she wanted. That was probably what made her good at her job in Washington. She wouldn’t let up until whoever she was arguing with just gave in.

  “Latham.” There was a warning tone in her voice.

  Latham didn’t answer, and he heard her footsteps stop. He took a couple of more steps and swung around, the shutters turning with him. “Yes, we’re going to try the colors. Happy?”

  “Yes.” She smiled at him and—seriously, he’d heard this before, but didn’t believe it was real—his heart stopped for a second. She was standing there on the path, just a girl in jeans and a T-shirt, her arms curved protectively around the baby she was holding. He shook his head. Why this girl? Why could he not just get over her?

  She cocked her head. “Do you think sea green would be better than mint? Because I saw one at the store and I thought about it. There was also a peach that might be really pretty with the gray siding.”

  He turned back toward the cottage and walked away from her. If he didn’t get the door painted soon, they’d have half the paint colors at the home improvement store in swatches on the front door.

  Praying for patience, he leaned the cedarwood shutters against the porch rail at the cottage and plugged his drill into the outdoor plug. He’d predrilled the holes in the siding planks, so if he’d measured right... He hoisted the shutter up and screwed it to the wall, stepped on a small ladder and drilled the top screws in.

  Aware that Wynn was watching him from a safe distance, he had all four wood shutters on the house in no time. He took a step back. “What do you think?”

  She walked closer, one hand around the baby, the other reaching out to touch the natural wood he’d sanded and stained. “I love it. The shutters look amazing. I love the natural wood with the gray siding and the white trim. It’s perfect.”

  “I have a couple more things to do and then we’ll talk about the paint color, okay?”

  “Thank you. I’m so excited. I can’t wait to move in! I love my mom, but there’s such a thing as too much togetherness.”

  He looked over at the main house. “Speaking of your mom...”

  She whirled around and then back, her eyes sparkling. “The cavalry has arrived. I’m going to go hand Maureen off and see how Pop and Aunt Mae are holding up, and then I’ll be back to pick a paint color!”

  Laughing, he pushed the door open to the cottage. The contractors had finished up the loft area. It wasn’t huge, but there was a window and it looked out over the pond. It would be a great little studio. He would install the railing tomorrow. He was using the natural wood again, with hog wire. It would be modern and clean and still keep the rustic feel of the house. He couldn’t wait to see it complete, but for today, he was hanging the shutters and the porch swings.

  After their conversation at the hospital, he’d stayed up late in his workshop last night finishing the custom porch swings so he could surprise her today. She’d been more open than ever about how she felt about having a baby and being a single mom.

  He could understand the fear and even the frustration of having to change your life so suddenly, even if you really wanted to. It was the equivalent of driving toward a destination, playing your tunes and rocking along and suddenly you realize you’ve made a wrong turn and there’s no way to get back to the path you were on. Maybe at some point you realize where this path leads is better, or ends up at somewhere awesome, but that doesn’t take away the feelings you have about changing the planned destination.

  He finished screwing the large eyebolts into the ceiling of the porch and lifted one end of the swing and hooked it on before repeating the action on the other side. With a gentle push, he tested it out.

  Glancing up to see if Wynn was still at the house, he quickly hung the other swing. He stepped back from the porch to look. The natural wood columns and shutters were perfect, and the swings, handmade in his shop, looked great.

  Would Wynn rock her baby in these swings? He hoped so. He hoped she would stay, and then wondered, Would it feel like a cop-out to her if she did?

  He wanted what was best for her, and he wasn’t the one who could decide that. He turned toward the main house and saw her coming down the path, a paintbrush in her hand, her blond hair shining in the sunlight.

  No, he wasn’t the one who could decide if she would stay, but he would do anything in his power to make it hard for her to go.

  * * *

  Wynn took a step back. She’d picked her top three paint colors. She just wasn’t sure. “I think maybe we should try that other one.”

  Latham picked up the two small cans. “Mint Soufflé or Mint Julep? They’re not at all the same. I mean, the difference is subtle, but you would definitely be making a mistake if you chose the wrong one.”

  She brushed the last stroke of the color she’d just tried, Mint Ice Cream. “I know, right?”

  She heard his chuckle and stopped. “Oh, I get it. That was sarcasm.” She took a couple of steps toward him. “I wouldn’t mess with a lady with a paintbrush.”

  He leaned against the wall. “Oh yeah? What are you going to— Wynn!” He spluttered as she tapped him on the nose with the brush, cutting him off.

  Tilting her head, she looked up at him. “I have to say, I like the color. Mint Ice Cream, it is.”

  “Glad we finally picked a color.” He rubbed the paint off his nose.

  She tapped the brush on his cheek, leaving another paint smudge. She beamed at him. “Yep, I like that one. Just wanted to make sure.”

  Whisking her into his arms, he started for the pond, his long stride eating up the distance. He shrugged. “You know, Wynn, if I have to take a bath, I think it’s only fair that you do, too.”

  She shrieked. “No! Latham, no! That pond is fifty-something degrees even in the summer. You can’t throw me in there! It’s February. I’ll freeze!”

  When he just smiled down at her and kept walking, she pulled out the big guns. “I’m pregnant! You can’t throw a pregnant lady!”

  “Wanna bet? You’re rea
lly not that heavy!” He started laughing and nearly dropped her.

  In desperation, she used her last weapon. “The baby’s kicking!”

  Latham went still, with her in his arms. She was freaking out, and he hadn’t even broken a sweat.

  He looked down at her. “What did you say?”

  Wynn kept her eyes on his. She couldn’t have looked away if she wanted to, not with that intense gaze on hers. “I said, the baby’s moving. You can feel it, I think, if you want to.”

  Latham gently set her feet down on the grass. “Are you sure it’s really okay?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.” She was still tucked into the curve of his arm, so she took his other hand. She closed her eyes, waiting. There. She placed his hand right over where the little stinker’s foot just kicked her. “Over just a little bit.”

  His big hand, rough and gentle, slid across her belly under hers, and she had to remind herself to breathe. The baby kicked again. “There. Did you feel it?”

  “Wynn,” he said, his voice quiet. “It’s a baby.”

  It was crazy and weird and somehow perfect, to have this little life growing inside her. She nodded. “Yeah, she’s really there. Isn’t that just the coolest thing?”

  The look of wonder in his eyes nearly undid her. She took a couple of steps away, and he tugged her back, scooping her into his arms again. “Break’s over. Now you’re going in the pond.”

  “What? No!” She gave him her sternest face. “Latham, you can’t throw me in the pond.”

  “Oh, all right.” He set her on the ground and dusted a kiss across her lips. “Come on, Mama, let’s go paint your door.”

  Wynn took a couple of steps after him as he walked away, a paintbrush sticking out of his back pocket. He was so effortlessly manly, not like the men she’d known in Washington at all.

  She stopped. No. This was pregnancy hormones talking, not feelings. Right?

 

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