CHAPTER THREE
RACHEL HADN’T PLANNED on ever returning to the Blue Dog Bar. Unfortunately, since she’d tossed the note with Carter’s cell number on it, she had no way to get in touch with the man. But she had remembered that one of the bartenders—Rachel couldn’t remember her name—had known Carter well enough to have his number and so here she was, showing up at three-thirty in the afternoon, with a nervous stomach and several spots of drying paste on the hem of her skirt.
Kindergarteners were hard on their teacher’s clothes, she thought as she glanced down at the dark patches. At least the paste would wash out. If only her problem with Carter could be solved as easily.
She drew in a deep breath, wished she hadn’t been so hasty with that note he’d left and walked into the dim building.
It was early enough that there weren’t many customers. Rachel ignored the few patrons and made her way to the bar, where she sighed in relief when she recognized the same woman who had been here that night three weeks ago.
The woman behind the bar smiled. “Hi. Can I help you?” She was pretty—late twenties, with a cute, short haircut and big green eyes.
“I hope so,” Rachel said, wishing she weren’t so nervous. She could feel herself shaking. “I’m, ah, looking for Carter.”
The bartender continued to smile. “Okay. Carter who?”
Rachel held in a moan of humiliation. “I don’t know,” she admitted in a rush. “I met him here three weeks ago. I didn’t mean to. I was here with a friend and she was breaking up with this guy and...” She sucked in a breath and clutched the large envelope of papers to her chest. “That’s not important, right? Because no one cares. Okay. We, ah, met and I need to talk to him. It’s really important. Carter. He’s about six-two with dark blond hair and a diamond stud earring.”
Honestly, how many Carters could there be? Rachel swallowed hard, then blurted out, “He has a scar shaped like a lightning bolt on his thigh right by his...”
“Oh,” the woman said, knowing. “That Carter. Have a seat. I’ll see if I can get in touch with him.”
* * *
CARTER COULDN’T DECIDE if he was annoyed or relieved. He couldn’t believe it had been three weeks and Rachel was only now getting in touch with him. Sure, hard-to-get was a time-honored game between the sexes, but hey—it was him. He’d never had to wait to get a call before.
Logically, this was probably better. He knew better than to get involved and if she were the kind of female totally into games, he wouldn’t be into her. Problem solved.
Except he had a feeling it wouldn’t be that simple. He hadn’t been able to get Rachel out of his mind. He knew where she lived and could have gone to see her, but that wasn’t his style. Besides, he’d left her his number and she hadn’t called. What did that say about what she thought about him?
He walked into the Blue Dog Bar determined to make her want him, even though he didn’t know if he wanted her. His male pride was at stake. He nodded at Jenny, who pointed to a booth in the back. He squared his shoulders and strolled casually in that direction.
Only to get broadsided by a two-by-four.
It didn’t matter that the hunk of wood was metaphorical. His gut twisted, the air rushed out of his lungs and he would swear he could hear angels singing. Damn, she looked good.
Rachel sat facing the bar, her back all straight, her clothes prissy enough for a preacher’s wife and her hair tied back in some kind of fancy braid. But he knew the truth. He knew that behind that don’t-touch-me-I’m-a-good-girl exterior beat the heart of a wanton. She kissed like a dream and made love as if it were her last time.
Heat poured through him and he had a brief but intense fantasy about dragging her onto the table and taking her right there. Only he’d never been one to show off in front of strangers. Besides, she hadn’t called and that might have hurt his feelings.
“Rachel,” he said as he approached.
She half stood, then sank back into the seat. “Hello, Carter.”
He slid into the seat across from her, then noticed the large legal-sized envelope she’d placed on the table. What was that about?
“It’s been awhile,” he said.
She nodded. “Three weeks.”
She licked her lips, which made his whole body clench. Damn, why did she have to get to him?
She put her hands on the table, laced her fingers together, then pulled back and dropped them to her lap. Nervousness radiated from her like a fine mist. He half expected her to clutch her stomach and run for the bathroom.
He’d decided to play it cool, to let her do all the talking. Not only was it a power play, but he would learn more that way. So he got really annoyed with himself when he blurted out, “You didn’t call.”
She blinked at him. “Excuse me?”
“You didn’t call. I was polite. I had to be up early and I didn’t want to wake you, so I left a note. And my phone number.” He leaned toward her. “I don’t go home with just anyone. Is that what you thought? You could use me and forget about me?”
He swore silently. Had those words come out of his mouth? If anyone ever found out he’d said them, he would be drummed out of the male gender and forced to live as a eunuch.
Her eyes widened. “I didn’t use you.”
“What would you call it? You had your way with me and then walked away without a second thought.” Until today, but he doubted she would think of that.
“I’m the woman. I can’t use you,” she said.
“Right. Because only guys can be jerks. Women always act perfectly.”
“Well, no. Of course not.” She stared at him. “I wasn’t trying to use you.”
“You could have called.”
“I didn’t know what to say.”
“How about ‘Thanks for the great night. We should go out sometime.’” Unless she hadn’t wanted to go out with him again, which wasn’t possible.
She drew in a deep breath. “Carter, I’m sorry I didn’t call, but we have something else more important to discuss.”
Important, huh? With women, that generally meant one thing. The relationship. But he and Rachel didn’t have a relationship.
“I’m listening,” he said.
She nodded, then exhaled. “There are ramifications from our night together.”
It took a second for her words to sink in. He swore under his breath and felt all desire bleed from his body.
“If you have something, you should have told me,” he growled.
Dammit all to hell, he had no one but himself to blame. He hadn’t used anything and he knew better. Not that he usually traveled with a condom. But he should have stopped to think, to ask, to be a responsible adult.
How bad was it? Would his...would it fall off?
“What?” she asked, sounding slightly outraged. “Have something? I’m not sick. There’s nothing wrong with me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me, either,” he told her. “I’m fine. So if we’re both fine, what’s the problem?”
She glared at him. “Seeing you know everything about women, you should have already figured it out. I’m pregnant.”
Had he mentioned that all of his trouble came from the women in his life? Timing being what it was, Jenny chose that moment to come up and ask if they wanted something to drink.
He looked up at her and sighed. “Give us a minute,” he said.
“Sure thing.”
Jenny glanced at Rachel and then headed back to the bar.
Carter knew what would happen next. He figured they had maybe fifteen minutes more of privacy and, given the topic, they were going to need a lot more.
He turned his attention back to Rachel and let her words wash over him. Pregnant. Pregnant?
“You’re not on the Pill?”
he asked, more to himself than her. Because he hadn’t asked before...when it had mattered.
“No,” she said, her voice low and annoyed.
“You let yourself have sex with me without protection or birth control?”
She opened her mouth and then closed it. “Not on purpose,” she told him. “It wasn’t as if I’d planned the night. It just sort of happened. I lost my head.”
And that was going to be his fault.
“I don’t do this sort of thing very much,” she said, obviously still annoyed, although he couldn’t figure out what her problem was. He was the injured party here.
“Meaning?” he asked.
She glanced around, then lowered her voice. “I’ve only been with two other guys and I was engaged to both of them.”
“You’ve been married before?” he asked, feeling slightly outraged. “Twice?”
“No.” She leaned back against the seat and groaned. “I was engaged, not married. That isn’t the point. I’m pregnant.”
“I got that.”
“There’s going to be a baby.”
That stopped him. Because until she’d said the “b” word, he hadn’t put the two together. Pregnant was a scary, dangerous condition used to trap men, but a baby was something pretty miraculous.
He felt himself smile. “Yeah?”
“Don’t you dare be happy,” she told him. “Neither of us planned this. We don’t even know each other.” She thrust the envelope toward him. “I’ve been to a lawyer. This is a very straightforward agreement. I’m not asking you for anything now or ever. In return, you sign away all rights to the child.”
“Why would I do that?”
She rolled her eyes. “Because it makes the most sense. Like I said, we barely know each other. We can’t have a baby together.”
“I’d say we already are.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw Jenny on the phone. She was quick, he would give her that.
A baby. He didn’t know what he felt, exactly, except a certainty that the kid would be a girl. As for signing away his rights, that wasn’t going to happen in this lifetime.
“We need to talk,” he said, then winced. Was Jenny spiking the beer? Was he turning into a woman?
“There’s nothing to talk about. You should look at the papers.”
He leaned toward her. “I’m not discussing this in a bar.”
She flinched. “I’m not taking you home with me. Look what happened last time.”
He wanted to tell her that he wasn’t interested in her that way—except he was. Now that he knew all his parts were going to stay in place, he could appreciate her pale skin and the way her mouth curved when she smiled. Not that she’d done so in recent memory.
“I’m not trying to sleep with you,” he said. “We can go to my place. Follow me in your car. Keep the damn engine running if you want. My point is, I’m not talking about this here.”
He didn’t mention that his ex-girlfriend was still friends with his mother and likely on the phone with her this exact second. Hence the need for speed.
Rachel considered his words, then nodded slowly. “Fine. Your place. But I want you to consider my offer. I’m not trying to trap you.”
“Good to know.”
* * *
RACHEL ENJOYED HER little convertible and she’d always liked driving the manual transmission. Only this afternoon she couldn’t stop shaking, which made it difficult to shift.
The conversation with Carter hadn’t gone at all the way she’d imagined. For one thing, he’d kept talking about the fact that she hadn’t called him. As if he’d wanted her to.
Honestly, the thought had never crossed her mind. She’d figured he slept with different women all the time and one more wasn’t going to make an impact on his life. Had she been wrong? Did he really care that she hadn’t called?
The thought was so foreign, she didn’t know how to process it in her brain. Adding to the confusion was his refusal to instantly sign off on the baby. She’d never thought he would want to take on that kind of responsibility. Weren’t women always complaining that men hated the idea of being tied down?
She had to make him understand they weren’t in this together. Dealing with being pregnant was hard enough, and not something she’d even begun to accept, but having to deal with Carter, too, was unimaginable.
She followed his large, black truck into a pleasant neighborhood, the kind populated by young families. When he pulled into the driveway of a pretty, one-story house, she parked in front and climbed out.
For a second, she looked around and felt herself get lost in the past. This was the sort of street where she’d grown up. Modest homes filled with parents and kids and lots of laughter. Even after all these years, she could remember everything about her old bedroom. The color of the wallpaper, the bookshelves on the wall, the way her mother would tease her about the mess on the floor.
Happy memories, she thought wistfully. Happy and so very, very sad.
“Rachel?”
She looked up and saw Carter waiting by the front door. She walked up the path and into his house.
The living room was open, with cream-colored drapes and pretty sage paint on the walls. The furniture looked relatively new and not the least bit like bachelor leather.
“Have a seat,” he said, closing the front door behind her. “You want something to drink?”
“I’m fine.”
She set the paperwork on the coffee table, then sank on the sofa. Now what?
Apparently Carter didn’t know, either. He paced the length of the room, paused in front of her, started to speak, shook his head and started pacing again. She reminded herself that she’d had several days to attempt to get used to the news and she still wasn’t dealing with it. The poor man would need some time.
“I didn’t plan this,” she said by way of a peace offering. “I want you to know that. What happened between us was totally unexpected.”
He looked at her and smiled. “I know. I was there.”
Somehow, she found herself getting lost in his brown eyes. She felt a pull between them. Something strong and powerful that made her want to stand up and step into his arms. Once there he would draw her close and...
Whoa! That’s what had gotten her in trouble in the first place, she thought.
She cleared her throat. “My point is, I don’t want you to be concerned. I can take care of myself.” She wasn’t sure how yet and thinking about being a single mother made her hyperventilate, but that wasn’t his problem. “I have no intention of trapping you. You can take as long as you’d like to look over the papers.”
His expression hardened. “Let’s get this clear right now. I’m not signing away my kid.”
He couldn’t mean that. “Do you want to be a father?”
“I didn’t plan on it this week, no. But we’re talking about my child.” He gave a strangled laugh. “Who am I kidding? My daughter. And you can’t have her.”
He stopped and put his hands on his hips. From her seated position, he looked very powerful and masculine and just a little intimidating.
“You can’t mean that,” she murmured, as caught off guard by his presence as by his words. “I never thought you’d be interested. You don’t know me.”
“Knowledge isn’t required. We did it, it happened, now we’ll deal with it.”
What he said sounded perfectly logical, but this was not the conversation she thought they’d be having.
But before she could say that, the front door burst open and three women entered. One was in her fifties, the others were about Carter’s age. Rachel stood and stared at them.
Carter groaned. “Mama, this is not a good time.”
“You’re one to talk about timing,” the older woman said, pushing
past him to stand in front of Rachel. “A man who gets a woman pregnant without meaning to should talk about timing. Apparently he’s very good at it.”
Mama? As in...his mother?
She was about five foot two, with short blond hair and Carter’s eyes. Tiny, but Rachel could feel the energy pouring off her. The other two women were taller and pretty, but they were a little intimidating, too.
“H-how did you know?” she asked, not sure she wanted the answer.
Carter slumped into one of the club chairs opposite the sofa. “Jenny called her. Rachel, this is my mother, Nina Brockett, and two of my sisters, Liz and Merry. You don’t need to know who is who because they won’t be staying. Mama, this is Rachel.”
“Of course we’re staying,” his mother told him, then turned to Rachel. “You should sit.”
“Why would the bartender call you?” Rachel asked, wondering if this would ever make sense.
“Jenny’s a friend of the family,” Nina told her.
“We stay in touch with most of Carter’s old girlfriends,” one of his sisters offered. “There have been lots, but you’re the first one to get pregnant.”
Jenny from the bar was his ex-girlfriend?
“She’s married,” Carter said, as if he could read her mind. “I doubt you can make your escape now. You might as well sit.”
“Of course she should sit,” Nina said, moving next to Rachel, taking her hand and urging her back on the sofa. “She needs to rest. She’s going to have a baby.”
“The baby is maybe four cells big,” Carter told her. “I doubt it’s going to tire her out.”
Rachel looked at him. “You went out with Jenny?” she asked, feeling herself blush. “She pretended not to know who you were. She made me describe...”
She suddenly became aware of the other three women in the room and sank onto the sofa.
“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered.
“That Jenny has a real sense of humor,” Carter muttered.
One of the sisters smiled. “She’s great. Carter was an usher in her wedding and she was a bridesmaid in mine.”
This was way too much information, Rachel thought frantically, glancing at the door and wondering if she could make a run for it. This wasn’t happening. She hadn’t just met Carter’s mother, two sisters and his ex-girlfriend.
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