The Baby Bump

by Tara Wylde

  “I promised her fun. I was hoping this would qualify.”

  Sympathy crosses Stephanie’s expression. “Sorry, pal. I don’t think she hated it, but I doubt she’d classify my attentions as fun.”

  “So.” I prop a hip against the table. “What do you think of her?”

  Stephanie purses her lips and considers the question. “She seems nice. A little quiet. Kind of shy, but really sweet.” She closes her giant makeup box’s lid and latches it. “Not really the kind of girl I expected you to date.”

  This surprises me. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s just that in the past, the other women I’ve seen you with, they’ve been more like Jenna. Bold, flirty, super confident and a little on the reckless side. From the little I’ve seen of Lucy, she’s the exact opposite.”

  Stephanie’s right, though I hadn’t really given it much thought until now. In the past I’ve always had a type, and Lucy doesn’t really fit into that mold, but …

  “All of my past relationships fizzled almost as soon as they got rolling.” I run a hand through my hair. “So maybe those women weren’t actually right for me. Maybe things will work out with Lucy because she is so different.”

  “There might be some truth to that. What does Margo think of her?”

  I wince. “Margo isn’t very happy with me right now. According to her, a hometown girl might be okay for a fling, but that she isn’t what I need for a long-term relationship. She really doesn’t think things are going to work out.”

  And since Margo knew the true status of my relationship with Lucy, she had a few very specific things to say about how this was going to impact my career and how the fans responded to me. She was one hundred percent positive that I should have picked one of the women that the fans already thought was perfect for me.

  “Don’t get too worked up about what Margo thinks.” Stephanie pats my chest. “She’s divorcing what is it, husband number five? I say that based on her track record, she doesn’t have a lot of room to say what will and won’t work when it comes to relationships. Now, when it comes to your acting career, she’s a genius.”

  “True.”

  Stephanie hooks the long canvas strap attached to her makeup box over her shoulder and smiles up at me. “The only thing that matters is that you’re happy, and if you think that Lucy is the one who makes you happy, then I love her.”

  Grinning, I cover the hand that still rests against my chest. “Thanks, Stephanie. You’re the best.”

  The sharp shriek of unoiled hinges startles both of us. I look up in time to see a door on the opposite side of the room swing open. Lucy steps out. Her eyes widen when she spots us.

  “Oh,” she squeaks. “Ryan, I didn’t know you were here.” Her eyes latch onto my hand over Stephanie’s and she rocks back a step. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll, um, I guess I’ll just leave the two of you alone.” She turns for the door, ready to make a hasty retreat.

  “Lucy, wait.” I pull away from Stephanie, whose shoulders are already shaking with suppressed laughter, and hurry towards Lucy.

  She stops, one hand resting on the door frame, spine ramrod straight.

  “Luce.” I touch the top of her shoulder, urging her to turn around and face me. “You didn’t interrupt anything. Stephanie was just filling me in. I came by to pick you up. Now, let me get a good look at you.”

  Lucy grimaces but turns and drops her arms, letting me get my first look at Stephanie’s handiwork.

  “Wow!”

  It’s the only word I can think of, and it really doesn’t feel descriptive enough. But I’m momentarily stunned into silence.

  A sheer, knee-length pale blue dress and wide belt perfectly showcase Lucy’s body. Strappy white high-heeled sandals do wonderful things to the exposed part of her long legs and make her toes look incredibly sexy. A strand of seed pearls circles her throat and tiny diamonds sparkle in her ear lobes. Stephanie’s fifties-inspired makeup and hair style tie everything together.

  “You’re smoking hot,” I tell her. I’ve never really given much thought to what women look like when they’re dressed up in vintage styles, but the way Lucy looks right now, I could easily develop a fetish.

  Stephanie grins at Lucy. “I told you so.”

  “Really?” Lucy wipes her palms down the front of her full skirt and bites her lower lip. “I don’t feel like me at all in this.”

  “You look incredible in everything you wear.” I move in close enough to brush a light kiss across her forehead. She smells like peaches.

  Lucy rolls her eyes. “Says the man who has seen me in exactly two outfits,” she mutters, keeping her voice low enough that Stephanie won’t overhear.

  “That doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m talking about. You’re beautiful and sexy.” I crook my elbow, Cary Grant style, and offer it to her. “Now how ‘bout we blow this joint?”

  She starts to move, but then hesitates. “I still don’t know what this is all about. Why go to the expense of flying Stephanie all the way out here and have me get dressed up all fancy?”

  I frown and place a hand to my chest, feigning hurt. “Don’t you trust me?”

  “Not completely.” Lucy’s voice drips honesty, though a small smile plays around the corners of her mouth.

  Stephanie points at her watch. “If the two of you don’t get a move on, you’re going to be late. Lucy, let Ryan fill you in on the details in the car.”

  Ryan

  The full skirt seems to take up more than its fair share of my car. I push a swath of it towards Lucy’s thigh so I can reach the gear shift. With a roar of the engine, I pull out of the parking space with a bit more speed than the local law enforcement would like.

  Lucy shifts in her seat, straining against the seatbelt until she’s facing me.

  “Stephanie seems really nice.”

  “She is.” The traffic light ahead of me switches from green to yellow, and I press down on the accelerator, sending the car sailing beneath it just as it blinks over to red.

  “How long have you known her?”

  I have to think before I can answer her. “We met about four years ago when we were both working on this little historical piece. Her career was just starting to take off and she was assigned to handle my makeup. We just clicked. We’re friends,” I hurry to add. “That’s all we’ve ever been.”

  Lucy eyes me suspiciously. “She must be a good friend to drop everything and fly out here on the spur of the moment.”

  “Stephanie loves a good adventure and for her, that’s just what this is,” I explain.

  “There’s no place in Patina Falls that requires getting dressed up. Even the country club at the golf course is perfectly happy when people show up wearing jeans and T-shirts.” Her fingers fumble with the skirt, pleating the material as she studies my expression. “And if you wanted to go to Green Bay, why not have Stephanie meet us there?”

  “We’re not going to Green Bay,” I tell her as I turn the car down a side street.

  “Then where?” Her brow furrows in consternation.

  Keeping my eyes on the road, I find her hand and lift it to my mouth, brushing a kiss across the back. “Someplace fun.”

  The scenery catches Lucy’s eye and she blanches. “Please tell me we’re not …”

  Her words trail off as I swing the BMW into the crowded parking lot of the huge church that has been a mainstay in the community for over a hundred and fifty years. A large sign near the entrance welcomes people to Suzie and Eli’s nuptials.

  “I can’t be here.” Lucy’s voice climbs a full octave higher than its normal pitch.

  I find an empty spot at the north side of the parking lot and slip the BMW into it before unsnapping my seatbelt. “Why not? Everyone keeps saying how you’ve been responsible for planning this thing. Seems only fair that you should see how it all turns out.”

  “But I haven’t been invited,” Lucy protests.

  “Neither have I.” I reach over
and unclip Lucy’s seatbelt. She doesn’t even notice. “What’s your point?”

  “You were invited,” Lucy says. “There wasn’t time to get a real invitation to you, but I heard Suzie say-”

  “You heard Suzie start to invite me, but than she got distracted by our alleged relationship status. She never actually uttered the words ‘Come to my wedding’ or ‘You’re invited,’ or ‘My finacé and I would be honored by your presence’.”

  “But she was going to invite you. Probably, she thinks she has.”

  “I hope not,” I tell Lucy. “Being a wedding crasher seems like a lot more fun than an actual invited guest. Don’t you agree?”

  “I think that I don’t like attending events where I’m not wanted.”

  The funny thing about her statement is that, even though her words are ones that most people throw around as prelude to an argument, from Lucy, they come across as passive. And the longer the argument goes on, the more submissive her body language becomes.

  It’s the same thing that happened yesterday at the coffee shop when Suzie was yelling at her.

  I don’t like it. There’s a time and a place to let things drop, to go along with the flow, there’s also a time to draw a line in the sand and fight back.

  “Not wanted?” I shove back the automatic wave of irritation. “Remember what Christian said yesterday, that he was looking forward to dancing with you at the reception? How Suzie’s father, your real boss has been telling everyone about how much hard work you’ve put into this thing. And those are just two people. I’ll bet the church is full of people who not only expect to see you here, but who want you here.”

  “I don’t know.” Lucy looks out the window at the church. I sense her wavering. “I really hate the idea of spoiling Suzie’s big day. She’s so excited and wants everything to be perfect.”

  “If your being here is all it takes to ruin her day, then Suzie has far bigger issues to worry about.” I lean across the center console and kiss Lucy’s scarred cheek. “If you crash this wedding with me, I promise you’ll have a good time.”

  Before she has a chance to protest, I jump out of the BMW and jog around the front of it. I grab the handle of the passenger door and pull it open, feeling ridiculously pleased that I was able to complete the sequence before Lucy let herself out.

  She still doesn’t look like she’s convinced that this is a good idea, but after a moment’s hesitation she gets out of the car.

  I take her hand in mine.

  “I didn’t get a wedding present,” she hisses as we walk across the faded asphalt.

  I refrain from pointing out that most people would consider the sheer amount of work she put into Suzie’s wedding, and the fact that she did it for free, a massive wedding gift.

  “I already took care of it.” And if Suzie yells at Lucy, I’ll grab the five-thousand-dollar Tiffany’s gift certificate off the gifts table. “I put both of our names on the card.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we’re supposed to be a couple,” I remind her, “and couples go halfsies on wedding presents.”

  I half expect her to protest. When she doesn’t, I decide now might be the time to bring up another thing I’ve done that she may not approve of.

  “Since the reception is going to be at the Fletcher Hotel,” I say, trying to keep my voice casual, “I went ahead and booked a pair of rooms for us.”

  As expected, Lucy skids to a halt. Her head snaps up to stare at me, and she gives her hand a tug, trying to pull it free. I hold tight.

  “Why?” she demands.

  “Because even though this town is growing, it still doesn’t have much of a taxi service.” I smile at an elderly couple who eyes us warily as they walk past on their way into the church. “And I want both of us to have a good time, which includes being able to drink without having to worry about how we’re going to get across town.”

  Lucy opens her mouth, ready to say something else, and for a split second, I think she’s about to disagree, that she’s going to actually argue with me or put her foot down, but then she just closes her mouth and drops her gaze to stare at her freshly polished toenails.

  I grind my teeth together. I never thought the day would come when I wanted someone to argue with me, but that’s exactly where I am right now.

  “If you end up not needing the room, and someone’s willing to drive you home after the reception, that’s fine. No skin off my nose. But it’s already booked, so there’s no point in yelling at me about it.”

  I nod at another couple. The woman looks familiar, like maybe she was my third-grade teacher. “So, rather than standing in the parking lot and attracting a lot of attention, how about we go inside and wish the couple a happy future?”

  So far, my plans to show Lucy a good time seem to do nothing but crash and burn.

  Lucy

  “And what?” Maxie pulls herself away from Heat Flare’s embrace and struggles not to shiver as the cold air tickles her. “You think that just because you give me a few fancy trinkets, kissed me once-”

  “Twice.” The corners of Heat Flare’s gorgeous mouth twitch.

  Maxie ignores the comment and the adorable smile. “—that I’ll be so swept up by you, so enamored, that I’ll do anything you ask of me? You’re insane.”

  “Maxie. I only want what’s best for you,” Heat Flare says in a gentle voice. He reaches out and takes her hand in his. He holds it lightly, the touch meant to connect rather than demand. The warmth of his skin surrounding her serves as a balm for her nerves. “And right now, what’s best for you is to get out of town, not forever, just a few weeks. Until I figure out what game this Frost Queen is playing at and why she’s decided to focus her attention on you.”

  “So what?” Maxie paces back and forth across the room. Dillion told her about the Frost Queen a few weeks back, when he first detected signs of her presence. “The Manipulator knows about her. He’s handling the situation.”

  Heat Flare’s mouth flattens into a grim line. “And yet things just seem to be getting worse. Don’t they?”

  “What are you saying?” Maxie wheels around on her heel and glares at him, not noticing that she is now, once again, standing within arm’s reach of him. “Are you trying to accuse Dil … The Manipulator of working with the Frost Queen?”

  Above his mask, Heat Flare’s eyebrows climb toward his hairline. “I wasn’t. I was going to say that maybe he doesn’t have the matter as much under control as he wants everyone to believe.”

  Maxie’s shoulders slump. “Oh.”

  She starts backing up, attempting to put more distance between them, but before she can, Heat Flare’s hand snakes out and catches hold of her elbow, holding her in place.

  He slides a finger under her chin, lifting her head until her eyes meet his. “Do you have some reason to believe that The Manipulator might be working with the Frost Queen?”

  “I now pronounce you man and wife.” The minister’s voice interrupts the scene between Heat Flare and Maxie that I started mentally writing almost as soon as I slid into the pew and settled next to Ryan.

  He leans over, bringing his mouth close to my ear. His warm breath stirs my hair and tickles my cheek. “You looked like you were a million miles away.”

  I blush and decide to be thankful that my imagination decided to focus on what felt like a massive and completely unexpected plot point for my story – as opposed to the rapidly escalating and equally unexpected sexual tension building between Heat Flare and Maxie.

  “You may kiss the bride,” the preacher drones on. I force my eyes and mind to focus on the activity taking place at the front of the church.

  Suzie grins and practically throws herself into Eli’s arms as everyone leaps to their feet and applauds.

  Once the pair pull themselves apart and make their way down the aisle, everyone slowly files out of the pews and starts to form the receiving line.

  Ryan’s hand settles on the small of my back and the heat from his palm see
ms to sear my skin, despite the material between us. I can’t decide if I want to lean into it, or pull away.

  “Hey, Lucy.” Grinning, Christian sidles up to us and fist bumps my shoulder. “Glad to see you changed your mind and came.”

  I smile shyly at him as he reaches behind himself and draws a curvy redhead around to stand beside him. “Ryan. Lucy. I want you to meet Vicky. Vicky, Ryan, one of my oldest friends, and Lucy. In addition to being the best office manager one of the doctors I work with has ever had, she’s Ryan’s girlfriend.”

  “Wow,” Vicky whistles. “Ever since I met him, Christian has been telling me how he’s friends with the famous Ryan Jakes, but I always assumed he was full of shit.”

  “He is,” Ryan says easily. “But not about me. When he’s talking about me, I’m far better than he says.”

  “Lucy promised to dance with me tonight, which I arranged so that you’d have a chance to dance,” Christian tells Vicky. “Doesn’t that qualify me as the best boyfriend in the world?”

  “Well, that depends.” Vicky loops her arm around Christian’s waist.

  “On what?” he asks suspiciously.

  “On whether or not Ryan is a halfway decent dancer,” Vicky responds, “or if he spends the entire time flattening my toes.” She extends her index finger and gestures to both of them. “And I’ll warn you, these shoes get ruined because one or both of you is a klutz, there will be hell to pay.”

  The time it takes for our section of the receiving line to reach the bride and groom flies by, mostly because Vicky, who it turns out is a popular stand-up comedian who works in a Green Bay night club, keeps telling one bawdy joke after another.

  All of us are disappointed to find ourselves standing in front of the new bride and groom.

  “Well,” Suzie’s gaze sweeps over the four of us, “it sounds like all of you are having a great time.”

  “I’m jealous,” her new husband, Eli, an anchor for the local news station, says. “I don’t think I’ve ever had as much fun at a wedding as the you folks have had in the past few minutes.” The glow in his warm eyes indicates that he’s not putting us down or complaining, that he’s genuinely pleased for us.