The Baby Bump

by Tara Wylde

I grimace. As a rule, I don’t have any problem with locally sourced businesses; in fact a few of my favorite places in California get all their ingredients from local farmers. But that’s California. Wisconsin is famous for its dairy farms, which is great for locally sourced cheese, milk, butter and beer. Not exactly date food.

  Still, whatever this place serves has to be better than chicken nuggets and milkshakes.

  The interior of the restaurant is every bit as deserted as the parking lot was. The only other diners are a foursome of elderly women sitting near an ornate fireplace who look like they’re having a great time.

  My hand rides low on Lucy’s back as we follow the host, a tall, lanky guy in his mid-twenties and about three months past his last haircut through the dining room. He stops at a booth that’s on the opposite side of the room from the older women.

  “How’s this?” he asks in his nasal, northern Wisconsin accent.

  “It’s fine.” I slide into the seat across from Lucy as she slips out of her jacket.

  The guy nods, the movement causing his hair to flop forward, and nearly obscures his eyes. “A waiter will be here in just a second or two,” he says as he starts ambling toward the kitchen.

  “Wow.” I grin sarcastically as I reach for one of the menus lying on the table. “Talk about a livewire.”

  Lucy casts a glance at the man’s retreating back before turning her attention to her menu. “Deacon Smythe. Nice guy. Cute.”

  An unfamiliar emotion, one that’s hot and bitter, stabs through me. I’ve never been the jealous type, but Lucy barely looks at me and here she is thinking some other guy is cute.

  “Looks aren’t everything.” The words sound a bit more peevish than I intend.

  If Lucy thinks the comment strange, she doesn’t let on.

  “Deacon has a lot going for him, but he also has a lot on his plate.” Lucy scans her food options. “Oh, I think I’ll have the lasagna. He’s trying to put himself through school. I think he’s studying engineering or chemistry, something like that, and works at least two jobs, three unless he quit one when he started working here.”

  “How do you know him so well?”

  “His mom, Ellen, works for my boss, Dr. Collins, part time. Once a week Deacon picks her up and takes her out for a picnic lunch. He’s a real sweetheart.”

  “Speaking of which, I’ve been meaning to ask you, how did you come to work for Dr. Collins?”

  “Luck, mostly. I went to college in Green Bay and gave myself one week after graduation to relax before hitting the job sites.”

  The waitress, a plain brunette with kind eyes, places two glasses of water and a basket of piping hot, complimentary rolls on the table and takes our orders. Lasagna for Lucy. The trout special for me.

  “Go on,” I urge Lucy when the waitress turns away from the table.

  “Dr. Collins’ old office manager was weeks away from retiring and posted that there was going to be an opening. I knew just how important Fletcher Hospital was, so I thought there would be a ton of applicants who were more qualified than me, but my mom pointed out that just going for the interview would be a good experience.”

  “And obviously you got the job.” I spread butter on one of the rolls.

  Lucy shakes her head. “I didn’t.”

  “But you’re working there.”

  “Now,” she agrees. “But after the interviews, they hired a different person, an older woman with years of experience, and I went back to job hunting. Three months later they called and said the woman hadn’t worked out and was I still interested. I didn’t think twice.”

  “Any trouble adjusting to life in a small town?” Green Bay isn’t as massive as Los Angeles, but it’s still considerably bigger than this town.

  Lucy sips her water. “No. I love this place. It suits me.”

  “Why don’t you tell Suzie to take a long walk off a short bridge when she goes all Bridezilla on you?”

  For the first time since we left the hospital, Lucy looks uncomfortable. She stares down at the table and fiddles with the silverware.

  “I …” she starts. “Probably I should, but each time I try, the words don’t come out. All I can think about is that tomorrow is her wedding day. Her big day. It’s supposed to be magical. Everything she’s ever wanted, and if that means she’s a little irrational right now, well, I guess I can put up with that.”

  The waitress reappears beside our table. I wait until she places the steaming plates on the table and disappears back into the kitchen before responding to Lucy.

  I shake my head wonderingly. “You’re a better person than me. I went to school with Suzie. Back than I thought she was a demanding, self-centered bitch. From what I saw at the coffee shop, nothing’s changed.”

  Lucy cuts into her lasagna. “She’s not that bad.”

  I sample my trout. It’s good, as good as anything I would have ordered in California, and the portion is nearly twice as big, even though it probably costs a fraction of what I’d normally pay.

  “Sweetie,” I say to Lucy. “She was standing in the middle of a busy coffee shop, screaming at you about cupcakes. Even in Los Angeles, where there’s ten divas on every street corner, that’s considered bad behavior.”

  “I don’t think Suzie realizes what she’s doing,” Lucy says. “She’s so wrapped up in her own life, her own issues, that there’s not enough awareness left over for her to realize how her actions, her words, impact other people. If she did, she’d change. Deep down, I think she’s a decent person, she just forgets sometimes.”

  If anyone else said that, I’d think they were just giving me lip service, but there’s genuine warmth in Lucy’s voice. She’s sincere.

  The memory of how she rushed to my side and helped me find some common ground with Nathan, how gentle and sweet she’d been while dealing with the boy, floods back to me, filling me with a warmth I’ve never experienced before.

  I set my fork down and study her.

  I get along with most people, but as a rule, the longer I’m in someone’s company, the less enamored I become with them. Lucy is different. It’s like I can’t get enough of her quiet, sweet personality, and now I can’t help wishing that some of her sweetness, her light, her innate ability to see the good in people, would rub off on me.

  Still refusing to so much as look at me, Lucy shovels a forkful of lasagna into her mouth and starts chewing.

  Her hair falls forward, softening the angle of her jaw, instantly making her appear more feminine, more approachable. An unexpected pang of desire shoots through me.

  My gaze lands on her pretty, unpainted Cupid’s bow mouth and I remember how it tasted, how those lips parted as she accepted my kiss and my hand spasms on my fork as I realize that I’d sell my soul for a second chance at that kiss.

  Ryan

  I stare at her mouth, transfixed, reliving the way she tasted, the small sounds she made in the back of her throat when I kissed her, how her body felt pressed against mine. Longing blasts through me.

  I want to kiss her again. I want to taste her more badly than I’ve ever wanted anything else in my life, and considering how badly I wanted to leave this town all those years ago, that’s really saying something.

  Frustration, hot and bitter, mixes with the desire. If this was a normal relationship, I’d just brace my elbows on the table and lean across it and kiss Lucy until she couldn’t see straight. But it’s not. This is a fake relationship, one that I created out of thin air because I wanted to improve my public image.

  Based on the parameters I established, I should only kiss her when there’s someone with a camera around, when the kiss will generate some publicity, and since this place is empty but for our placid-faced host and whoever’s in the kitchen, a kiss right now would most likely send Lucy scurrying for cover and have her calling off this fling altogether.

  Lucy’s cheeks turn pink and she reaches up and self-consciously brushes a hand across her full, bare lips. “What?” she says, her cheeks turni
ng even pinker. “Do I have food stuck between my teeth or something?” Her hand drops to her front, frantically pulling her sweater away from her full breasts. “Or did I slop something on my shirt? I hate when that happens.”

  I reach across the table and catch her hands in mine. I pull them down and rest them on the table top. “Relax, you look fantastic.”

  Suspicion narrows Lucy’s eyes. “Then why are you looking at me like that?” The blood abruptly drains from her face. “It’s my scar, isn’t it?” She tries tugging a hand free from my hold, probably so she can cover the mark.

  “No,” I hurry to assure her. “I barely even notice you have a scar. It seems as natural and as much as part of you as your eyes.”

  I’m not sure it’s exactly the right thing to say to her, but Lucy stops trying to pull free of my touch, though her expression remains tense.

  “I’m sorry,” I continue. Without any conscious thought on my part, my thumb makes small circles on the back of her right hand. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

  I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Lucy grows even more tense at my words. She looks so uptight and fragile that it seems a strong wind would blow her into bits.

  “Uh huh,” she says, her voice strained. She doesn’t believe me. This shouldn’t surprise me. The downside to being an actor is that most people assume I’m putting on a show, that they can’t take a single thing I say at face value. I’ve come to accept that it’s a hazard of my job, but the fact that Lucy doesn’t believe me stings.

  “To be honest, I didn’t realize I was staring at you,” I tell her. “I was trapped up here.” I tap the side of my skull. “Thinking that you are the one good thing in the town and that I can’t believe I was lucky enough to be in the coffee shop at the same time as you.”

  “The one good thing,” Lucy slowly repeats my words.

  “Uh huh.”

  She wrinkles her nose. “You can’t possibly be serious. There has to be something you like about this place, otherwise you wouldn’t have come back. Dr. Christian?”

  She has a point. “Christian is a friend, and the only person from my past that I stayed in touch with, but he usually comes out to California to see me. The only reason I agreed to come out here to do a promotion for organ donation for the hospital is because I owe him.”

  She tips her head to the side. Unspoken questions swirl in her hazel eyes, but she doesn’t put them into words.

  “In high school, Christian was just as big a dork as I was. The difference was that he came from a good family and had money. When I decided to leave, he didn’t ask any questions. He didn’t tell me I was stupid. He just gave me what money he had, his cell phone, and wished me luck.”

  I don’t tell her that in doing so, he probably saved my life.

  “That was sweet of him,” Lucy says in a soft voice. She rolls her hand under mine, twisting it until our palms press together and holds my hand tightly in hers, comforting me in her quiet manner. I don’t think anyone has ever tried to comfort me before. It feels strange and good, and fills me with a sense of fuzzy warmth that I’ve never experienced before. “I don’t know what happened to you, but I’m glad you had a friend who helped out.”

  “Me too.” We’re on the verge of having a moment, the kind that causes the entire world to shift on its axis. The idea makes me twitchy. As nice as sitting here with Lucy is, I need to move. Right now, I need fresh air and action as much as I need to draw my next breath.

  Still, drawing my hand away from Lucy is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I stand and put my coat on before tossing a twenty-dollar bill onto the table.

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  Maybe, just maybe, once we’re clear of this place, I’ll figure out an excuse to pull her tight against me and claim her mouth as my own.

  Lucy’s eyes widen in surprise, but she doesn’t protest. She just stands up, shrugs into her coat and follows at my heels as I wind my way past empty tables until I reach the door. I hold it open for Lucy.

  “Do you need to be somewhere?” she asks softly as she turns back toward me.

  I shake my head and admire the way the overhead light shines on her dark hair. My fingers itch to bury themselves in the silken mass, to use my grip to tug her head to mine, to hold her steady as I kiss her like no one has ever kissed her before.

  “Everything’s fine.” Unable to resist, I reach out and tuck a strand of her hair behind her left ear, using the opportunity to lightly brush my fingertips across her soft cheek. It might be my imagination, but I swear she leans into the touch a little. That her eyelids grow heavier.

  My heart kicks into double time and I lean a little closer. “You know, Luce …” I begin when a shadow and a flicker of movement catches my attention.

  I study it for a second. Just as I convince myself I’m imagining things, a shadow moves, shifting just far enough into the light for me to recognize Tracy, the girl from the hospital elevator, and based on the shifting shadows, she’s brought a few friends along with her. All of them have cell phones in their hands, ready to catch a picture of the hometown celebrity.

  Obviously one of the restaurant employees recognized me and put the word of my whereabouts on social media. Normally this would piss me off, but since I was just looking for an excuse to kiss Lucy, I can’t bring myself to be too angry.

  Refusing to think too much about what I’m about to do, wanting to just savor the sensation, I reach out, grab the bottom of Lucy’s jacket and tug her close.

  Her brows snap together and she stares down at my hand even as I close the distance between our bodies. “What are you-”

  “Shhh,” I murmur and lower my head, breathing in her good, clean scent. It’s more of a turn on than any of the expensive, supposedly exotic perfumes the other women who’ve briefly moved through my life wore. “Trust me and just go with it.”

  Ryan

  I lower my head and lightly brush my lips across Lucy’s. My intention is to keep the touch soft and light, the kind of romantic kiss that makes female fans swoon in the theater seats, but the second my skin touches her, a bolt of pure lust jolts through me and my self-control dissolves.

  I release my hold on Lucy’s jacket and slide my hands beneath the material, pushing aside the hem of sweatshirt until my fingertips find soft, warm skin.

  Lucy raises her arms and wraps them around my neck.

  Growling, I crush her lips beneath mine. Her lips part and our tongues meet in a duel that sends the blood rushing straight to my dick. I’ve never felt anything so intense in my life.

  I lower my hands and grasp her hips, walking her backward until she bumps into my rental BMW. She squeals against my mouth as I lift her up and onto the hood and move to stand between her legs.

  My heart pounds in my chest, beating so powerfully against my ribs, I’m surprised the bone doesn’t crack.

  I slide my hands up and down her thighs, loving how the flesh quivers beneath my touch even as I resent that she’s wearing jeans instead of a skirt that I could slip my hands under.

  Lucy arches her back, grinding her breasts against my chest as her fingers mesh into my hair. She makes mewling noises that drive me wild.

  My hands shift higher, finding the apex of her thighs, where I rub against her. Her legs twitch and her hands tighten in my hair. Even with the jeans between my hand and her essence, I feel her building heat. I imagine the moisture gathering there in preparation for my cock and something snaps in my brain.

  I fumble with the button that holds her jeans closed, desperate to get closer to her, to really feel her.

  Just as the button slips free of the button hole, Lucy’s fingers tighten on my hair, pulling until our lips finally part. That’s when the laughter penetrates my conscious.

  Over Lucy’s shoulder, I see seven laughing teenagers standing at the edge of the parking lot, camera phones flashing as they capture every single moment.

  Shame blankets me, effectively smothering
the desire as the laughter changes to cat calls.

  I wrap one arm around Lucy, cupping the back of her head, pressing her face into my shoulder as I use the other to fumble in the pocket of my windbreaker for my keys. Once I find them, I tug Lucy off my car, shielding her with my body as I open the door and bundle her onto the passenger seat.

  The peanut gallery makes a few lewd suggestions, a few I’ve never even heard of, as I jog around the front of the car and let myself into the driver’s seat.

  Neither of us says a word as I close the distance between the restaurant and the coffee shop where I first encountered Lucy.

  The coffee shop, located near a quiet residential part of town, has closed for the day by the time we reach it.

  “Is that yours?” I nod toward a dark gray Saturn. It’s the only car in the parking lot. Luckily, Lucy parked fairly close to one of the security lights so there’s no need to worry about someone lurking in the shadows.

  Lucy nods.

  I pull up next to it and put the BMW into park but don’t kill the engine.

  Lucy unsnaps her seatbelt. “Thanks for the … interesting day.” She reaches under the seat and extracts her laptop before reaching for the door handle.

  I grab her hand before she can slip out of the car.

  “Lucy, I-” I take a deep breath. I’ve had the entire drive to figure out how to apologize for the way I behaved when we left the restaurant, but still haven’t come up with anything. Maybe I should just hire a writer to hang out with me all the time.

  “I’m sorry for what happened back there,” I finally say in one long rush.

  Lucy catches her lower lip between her lips and studies me. “Why?”

  I blink. I’d expected her to be furious or upset. That she’d call me an assortment of names or even fling a few accusations my way. “I took advantage of you. I didn’t get your consent beforehand.”

  She tips her head to one side and studies me. “I don’t recall pushing you away.”

  She has a point.

  Before I can respond, she slips from my car and gets into hers.