Circle of Friends Complete Collection

by Susan Mallery

  Nina patted her hand. “You’ll be fine. This is shocking now, but that’s because Carter didn’t tell you about us. Why my only son wouldn’t mention his family to the mother of his child, I don’t know. But I’m only the mother. No one tells me anything.”

  “Save me,” Carter muttered as he rubbed his temples. “Mama, you’re not helping.”

  “Of course I’m helping,” his mother insisted. “I want to help. It’s what I do best. So, what were the two of you talking about when we got here?”

  Rachel glanced at the envelope on the table. Suddenly Carter’s unwillingness to walk away from his unborn child made a little more sense.

  “That’s private,” Carter told her.

  “You might as well tell us,” one of his sisters said. “We’ll find out anyway.”

  “No, you won’t,” Carter told her. He looked at Rachel. “If you want to make a run for it, I’ll cover your back.”

  “She’s not running,” Nina said and it was only then Rachel realized the older woman still had a firm grip on her hand.

  Rachel tugged it free. “Carter and I have some things we need to work out,” she said weakly.

  “Of course you do.” Nina smiled at her. “You’re a nice girl, I can tell. You didn’t mean to get pregnant. But it happens. So we’ll deal with it.”

  We? No, no. There was no we. “Technically, I’m the one who’s pregnant,” she began.

  Carter’s gaze narrowed. “And I’m the father.”

  “I’m not denying that,” Rachel said, bristling. “I’m the one who came to you.”

  “I would have been happy to do things the other way,” he reminded her. “You didn’t call.”

  The sisters looked at each other. “Really? You went out with Carter and didn’t call the next day?” one of them asked.

  “Ah...”

  “The women always call,” the other sister said. “Some of them won’t stop calling.”

  “Ah...”

  “It gets embarrassing,” the first one continued. “I want to take them aside and tell them to have a little pride.”

  “It’s not their fault,” Nina said with a proud smile. “It’s my son.”

  Rachel raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

  Carter groaned. “Ignore them. I mean that.”

  “Maybe I want to hear about ‘the women.’”

  “You don’t,” he told her. “Trust me.”

  “About the baby,” Nina said, breaking the mood. “We need to talk.” Nina patted the back of her hand. “I understand. If you young people insist on putting the cart before the horse, then they need to turn the horse around.”

  “What?” Rachel and Carter asked together.

  Nina glanced between them. “Isn’t it obvious? You have a baby coming. You need to get married.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CARTER STOOD. HE’D been willing to let the moment run its course. Thirty years of being his mother’s son had taught him that was the easiest way to deal with her. He would listen and then do exactly what he wanted. But mother or not, she’d just crossed the line.

  “Okay, that’s enough,” he said flatly and walked to the door. “Great to see you all. Thanks for stopping by.”

  His mother was about a foot shorter, but that never seemed to bother her. She rose and walked over until she was in front of him, staring up, glaring.

  “Carter Brockett, I’m serious.”

  “So am I, Mama. This isn’t about you. This is between me and Rachel. We’re going to deal with it and we don’t need your help.”

  Her brown eyes narrowed. “You’re going to have a baby, Carter. This is serious.”

  He knew she meant well. He knew she loved him and would gladly throw herself in front of a train for him. But sometimes she was the biggest pain in the butt.

  He bent down and kissed her. “I know, Mama. Trust me, okay?”

  She sighed heavily, then nodded. As she stepped out of the house, his sisters trailed after her. Merry grinned.

  “You’re in big trouble, now,” she murmured as she passed.

  “Thanks for the support.”

  “Any time.”

  He closed the door behind them.

  Rachel still sat on the sofa, although she looked a little shell-shocked. His family had that effect on people. He’d seen it many times.

  He walked into the kitchen and got her a glass of ice water, then returned to the living room. She stared at him, her green eyes wide, her mouth slightly parted.

  “You doing okay?” he asked.

  “No.” She took the glass he offered. “Who were those people?”

  He sank back into his chair. “My family. Most of them, anyway. I have another sister around somewhere. She must not have been home or she would have been part of the parade, too.”

  “You have three sisters, right?”

  “I’m the youngest and the only boy. My dad died before I was born so it was just me and them. A world of women.”

  She sipped the water. “When you said women were the cause of all the trouble in your life, I thought you meant romantically.”

  “That would have made things too easy. I’m surrounded by them. Even my dog, a stray Lab who showed up one day all skinny and pathetic, is female. Welcome to my world.”

  She managed a small smile. “It’s not so bad. Your family obviously cares about you.” She took another drink. “Did Jenny really call your mother to tell her what she’d heard?”

  “Oh, yeah. Jenny stayed pretty tight with her and my sisters. As have a lot of my ex-girlfriends. They show up at holidays or parties. I never know when I’m going to run into one.” Or twenty, he thought grimly. Why couldn’t his ex-girlfriends be like other women? Bitter and vindictive. Right now the idea of someone slashing his tires was a whole lot easier to deal with than someone like Jenny, who simply stayed in his world.

  Not that he didn’t like Jenny—he did. She’d married a great guy, but damn, whose side was she on? Calling his mother and telling her Rachel was pregnant.

  Rachel set down her glass and glanced at him. “I didn’t get pregnant on purpose.”

  “I know. Neither of us planned on that. We just weren’t thinking.”

  She ducked her head, but he saw her smile. “I was kind of swept away. Nothing like that has ever happened to me before.”

  “Me, either.”

  She looked up and rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. I might not know you very well, but I’m getting a clear idea about your past. You seem to have women lined up around the block.”

  “Sure, a lot of relationships, but that kind of heat?” He shrugged, trying to remember the last time he’d felt it. “It doesn’t happen very often.”

  “Are you just saying that?”

  The uncertainty in her voice added to her charm. They were already in so much trouble, Carter almost felt still being attracted to her couldn’t make things worse. Except he knew it could. A relationship would only complicate the situation. Better to keep his head and think clearly. If only she didn’t smell so good.

  “I don’t do lines,” he told her. “You’re beautiful and sexy and funny. You dress like a nun and you have a body made for...ah, making love,” he said, self-editing to something less graphic. “What’s not to like?”

  “Wow. When you say it like that, you were lucky to have me.”

  He smiled. “Yes, I was. Only now there are consequences for us to deal with.”

  “The baby.”

  “Right. Rachel, I’m not giving up my daughter.”

  “You don’t actually know the baby is a girl.”

  “Yes, I do, but that doesn’t matter. We’re going to have to work something out, because I won’t sign those papers.”

  He’d unders
tood why she’d thought he might. Many guys would jump at the chance to walk away from this kind of responsibility, but he couldn’t. He’d been raised to believe family mattered more than anything.

  She leaned forward and fingered the thick envelope. “I know. I mean I didn’t know before, but I do now.” She straightened and touched her stomach. “So what do we do? No offense, but I’m not going to accept your mother’s suggestion.”

  “You don’t want to marry me?” he asked, his voice teasing.

  “I don’t know you.”

  “I’m a great catch.”

  “You certainly don’t seem to have an ego problem.”

  He grinned. “I have references.”

  “Apparently in the hundreds.”

  “Not that many.” He stood and moved to the sofa, where he angled toward her. “How about this. We have what, eight months until the baby is born?”

  “Just about.”

  “Okay, let’s take that time and figure out what we want to do. Not what my mother says is best. We’ll talk about the situation and come up with a plan.” He hesitated. “You’re going to keep the baby, aren’t you?”

  She stiffened. “Of course. I want this child.”

  “Me, too. So what do you say? We’ll take our time and consider our options. You live in the area, I live in the area, we could easily share custody. Or figure out something else that works. Let’s get to know each other and find out what works best for us.”

  She bit her lower lip, which made him think about doing that for her, which made him think about other things. They were alone in the house.

  Only that wasn’t a very good idea right now.

  “You’re right,” she said, obviously oblivious to the temptation she represented. “We have time. We should use it.”

  “Great.” He grabbed a pen and paper from the end table and wrote down his home and cell number. Then he held the sheet out to her. “You’re not going to throw it out again, are you?”

  “No, I promise I won’t.”

  She reached for the paper, but he held it out of reach. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  She sighed. “Are you ever going to let that go?”

  “Probably not until you answer the question.”

  She sank back against the sofa. “I couldn’t call you, Carter. I honestly didn’t know what to say. I’d never done anything like that in my life. I was afraid of what you’d think of me. And I was afraid of what I’d think of myself.”

  He dropped the paper in her lap and gave an exaggerated sigh. “I knew it. You were just using me for sex.”

  She groaned. “You’re impossible.”

  “Sometimes I’m even better than that.”

  “Give me those.”

  She reached across the sofa and grabbed the pen and paper from him. Suddenly they were very close, with her breasts pressing against his arm and one of her hands lightly touching his stomach.

  His reaction was instant and predictable. Blood rushed south, and his brain went blank, except for the burning need to pull her into his arms.

  Her gaze locked with his and he was gratified to see an answering fire there. Unfortunately, she had more self-control.

  “I’ll, ah, give you my number,” she murmured as she drew back and quickly wrote down the information. “We should plan to get together and talk some more.”

  “How about Saturday?” he asked.

  She handed him back the pad. “Okay. Do you want to go out or...” She shook her head. “No matter what I say, it’s going to sound like a date.”

  “It’s not a date,” he told her, suddenly wishing it was. “Let’s go casual. I’ll bring dinner to your place. That way we won’t be interrupted.”

  She blinked several times.

  “While we talk,” he added, emphasizing the last word. “Just talk.”

  “Okay. That’s fine. We’ll talk.”

  * * *

  CARTER WENT OUT back and whistled for Goldie. The golden Lab, named by one of his nieces, strolled out of her plush doghouse, stretched and ambled toward him. She gave him a quick lick on the hand by way of greeting, then bumped her head against his thigh so he would rub her ears.

  “Have you noticed everything in this relationship is about you?” he asked conversationally as he obliged her for a couple of minutes. “Come on. We’re going to see Mama.”

  The magic name perked up Goldie and she trotted eagerly to the side gate. Carter let her out, then followed her down the street. Goldie paused at the curb until he’d checked for traffic, then dashed across to a tidy front yard. She sniffed the big tree in front, raced up the two steps, rose on her back legs and pressed her paw against the bell.

  The front door opened and his mother appeared.

  “Goldie. Such a pretty dog. Come in, come in. I have some nice pot roast from last night. I saved you some.” His mother held open the screen door for the dog, then glanced at him. “If you’re going to tell me to mind my own business, you can go home now.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m going to tell you and you know you’d never send me away without feeding me first.”

  “You think you know everything,” his mother grumbled, but held the screen door open for him, too, then shooed him into the kitchen.

  Carter had grown up in this house. He’d painted walls, laid tile and, when he was nine, broken the front window with a high fly ball hit from Billy Hinton’s front yard. There were a lot of memories under this roof. Mostly good ones.

  The kitchen was large and open, with painted cabinets and a six-burner stove that was always in use. Right now marinara sauce bubbled away.

  He glanced around at the table. “Where are the girls?” He’d expected an inquisition.

  “I sent them home. I wanted to talk to you alone.”

  That was never good news, he thought glumly as he pulled up a stool at the island and took a cookie from the ever-present plate of them. Neither the alone part nor her confidence that he would stop by.

  “I appreciate your interest,” he told his mother. “I love you, but stay out of this. Rachel and I have to figure out what to do ourselves.”

  “What to do?”

  His mother might be short, but she was formidable when she got her back up. Right now, with him on the stool, they were perilously close to eye level. She glared at him.

  “What to do?” she repeated, sounding both outraged and furious. “If you get a girl pregnant, Carter, you marry her. I raised you to know that.”

  There was something mythic about his mother. Carter had never figured out the source of her power, but he respected it. With the right look and tone of voice, she could make him feel as if he were ten years old again.

  “Things have changed,” he said. “Lots of women have babies on their own. That’s what Rachel wants to do.” The woman had tried to get him to sign away his own child. Nothing about those actions indicated a burning desire to marry him.

  “Did you propose? Did you offer to take responsibility?”

  “I said I wanted to be a part of my child’s life. I want to share custody with her.”

  His mother walked to the sink, where she began rinsing pots. “Share custody. What does that mean? Half a life with a child? You’re having a baby, Carter. This isn’t a game. You have to marry this girl.”

  “She doesn’t want to marry me.”

  “How do you know? Have you asked?”

  He didn’t mention the legal paperwork. She wouldn’t understand a woman expecting a man to walk away from a child and it might make her dislike Rachel. Nina Brockett was a wonderful woman, but she could hold a grudge for decades. Better to take the fall himself. After all, Rachel was going to be his baby’s mother, so there would be plenty of contact between Rachel and his mother.

  �
��I already know the answer,” he said.

  “You think you do, but you could be wrong. Stranger things have happened.”

  “Mama, give it a rest.”

  She flung down a dishcloth and spun to face him. “I won’t give it a rest. You’re my son. We’re talking about your firstborn child. You have to be a father to that baby.”

  He put down the cookie. “I’m going to be,” he said quietly. “I’ll be there.”

  Her expression softened. “I know, Carter. I’m sorry. You know more than anyone what it’s like to grow up without a father.”

  “Then trust me to do the right thing,” he said.

  “I can’t even trust you to wear a condom.”

  Every now and then she surprised the hell out of him. Desperate to escape he looked around for Goldie, who was nosing the now licked-clean dish on the floor by the pantry.

  “I gotta go,” he said as he stood, then whistled for his dog.

  “Marry the girl.”

  “I love you, Mama.”

  “I love you, too. I’d love you more if you’d marry Rachel.”

  “Good to know.”

  He let himself out and made his way back to his house, knowing he could run but he couldn’t hide. Once his mother had something lodged in her brain, she never let it go. She would be all over him until he and Rachel had tied the knot.

  The thing was he didn’t object to marriage in theory...for other people. But honestly, he didn’t see the point. Why be with one person forever?

  His sisters kept telling him he didn’t understand because he’d never been in love. That one day he would fall and fall hard, and they all couldn’t wait to be there.

  He told them hell would freeze over first, but he hadn’t meant it. He wouldn’t mind falling in love. He wanted to feel that he couldn’t live without the one person who made him want to get up every morning. Only he’d never found anyone who came close to that. Eventually he’d decided that romantic love was a myth—a product of greeting card advertisers.

  If Rachel had wanted to get married to give the baby his name, he probably would have said yes, as long as she understood he wasn’t about to fall in love with her. But from what he’d seen, that was the last thing on her mind. So they would work something out—a sensible plan that took care of all their needs and the baby’s as well. Because he knew one thing for sure—he might not believe in romantic love, but he knew about a parent’s love for a child and no one was going to keep him from that.