The Slow Burn

by Caro Carson

  It was shocking to realize that she’d feel obliged to share her medical info with Jerry, if he still lived in Houston. He’d be a terrible person to have in the room during a sonogram. He’d make sarcastic comments about everything. He’d be bossy, and if he wanted to know the sex of the baby, it wouldn’t matter to him if she didn’t want to know.

  She’d never been so grateful that Jerry had so utterly abandoned her. Thank goodness she was having this baby without him.

  “Do you want to get some dinner?” Caden asked.

  Tana scowled at him. His point had been made. “I don’t think your ex-girlfriend is going to want to have dinner with her ex-boyfriend every day. She’s still going to have her own life, you know. Her own friends. Her job. Being pregnant doesn’t mean the rest of her life stops.”

  “I meant you, Tana. Let’s take a break when this song ends. If you’re not hungry, I’ll buy you that cranberry juice you wanted back in September.”

  I don’t need you to. I can afford my own drinks. I can walk up to a bartender and order anything I want, anytime I want.

  But she didn’t want to do any of that right now. She wanted Caden to be her ex-boyfriend, to be the man she’d gotten pregnant with, the man who would never be her enemy.

  He wasn’t.

  She was on her own, and she had a fierce determination to be the best at motherhood. But while Caden kept his arm around her and held her hand, what she needed was a fierce determination not to cry.

  Chapter Nine

  He should never have started dancing with her.

  Caden knew too much about her now. They’d laughed through one song, been serious through another, gotten testy with each other for a chorus or two. He’d called the father of her baby a son of a bitch. Not his best move, even if the man seemed to be a worthless piece of—

  Well, that didn’t matter. Since the worthless jerk was someone Tana had to co-parent with for the next eighteen years of her life, getting along with him did matter. Tana was obviously angry with her ex right now. Caden hadn’t intended to throw fuel on that fire. That wasn’t how he operated.

  They moved in time to the music. Tana wouldn’t meet his eyes, and he didn’t know what else to say. He couldn’t tell her that he’d be happy to assemble a crib, carry something heavy, give her a ride. Her, not a hypothetical ex. If she was busy coaching over the holidays, he could swing by the campus with something for dinner.

  Or breakfast. He’d like to be the one who made this woman some breakfast while she sipped coffee on the couch, barefoot in her pajamas, her flowery-smelling hair still a mess from her pillow. From his hands the night before.

  The clarity of that vision set off an internal alarm. He was going into dangerous territory there.

  “I’m not thirsty,” Tana said, with enough frost in her voice that he knew her thoughts were not running anywhere along the same lines as his. “We should probably quit after this song, anyway, before we give everyone something to talk about. When I start showing, that gossip could get uncomfortable for you. They’ll assume...you know. That you’re the father.”

  “Don’t worry about that.” With a woman like Tana, he’d take it as a compliment that anyone thought she’d slept with him in the first place. He’d be proud as hell to claim her as his.

  That internal alarm got louder. He was letting too many feelings grow, too many fantasies take too firm of a shape.

  The song was coming to its end. “I’m sorry if I hit a sore spot, talking about exes. I hope you two work things out.” He meant it. She shouldn’t be alone now.

  “You don’t work things out with a man who is nothing more than a sperm donor. I am sick of explaining that to my family. That’s why I came here tonight, to get away from this exact conversation.”

  “A sperm donor?” Caden raised an eyebrow. He supposed that wasn’t any more harsh than his use of son of a bitch.

  She was silent for a moment, quick-quick, slow, slow. Then she tossed her hair back again and raised her chin, and all he could think was that she reminded him of that mare, the one with a spirit that couldn’t be broken no matter how shabby her circumstances.

  “You know, we’re only acquaintances. I don’t owe you an explanation of when or where or how I conceived any more than I owe my mother or my father one—my boss or my team—or—or anyone. I’m having a baby. Me. No one else.”

  In his experience, people got defensive when they were hurt and in pain. Her parents didn’t sound supportive, that was for certain. Caden didn’t want to be one more person criticizing her.

  “You don’t owe me any explanation. You’re right.”

  The song came to an end. Normally, he would have stepped back and lifted their joined hands so she could finish with a twirl. Instead, they just stopped. Dead.

  “Thank you for the dance.” If she was trying to force a smile, she was failing. “I’m going to hit the ladies’ room.”

  Caden touched his forehead as if he were wearing his cowboy hat, a silent cowboy thank you before she turned and walked away. Stalked away was more accurate.

  “My turn.” Ruby didn’t give him a chance to say yes or no. She put a hand on his shoulder and held out her other expectantly.

  He couldn’t force himself to smile any more than Tana could. Still, manners were manners, and he couldn’t leave a woman standing on the dance floor with her hand in the air, no matter how poor her own manners were as she demanded a dance.

  They two-stepped for less than two lines of the song before Ruby started talking. “You do know she’s pregnant, right?”

  Caden didn’t answer. It was clearly not public knowledge, even among the small group around the table, but the zombie ballerina must be close friends with the sexy witch.

  Caden two-stepped in a straight line, backward, so Ruby would be moving forward, the easier direction, in case she wasn’t a good dancer. “I know she’s pregnant.”

  Ruby studied him, openly skeptical. “Not a lot of bachelor dudes would spend their night out with a pregnant woman.”

  “We’re just talking over drinks, all of us. Tana and I waltzed because we’re apparently the only two people at the table who know how to waltz. Don’t make it more than it is.” That was good advice for himself, there. Don’t make more out of this, Caden.

  “It’s just a little creepy for a guy to be hitting on a pregnant woman.”

  Caden glanced over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t backing into another couple. “I’m not hitting on her. She’s part of the group this evening.”

  Ruby was a decent dancer, so he turned them at the corner. Moving forward, he could return Ruby’s glare with a deliberately neutral expression. Nothing going on here, no major emotions to pick apart.

  “What is the message you want me to be receiving?” he asked. “If a woman is pregnant, I should ignore her? Does she stop being a real person? This is a night out with friends, and she’s a friend.”

  “You’re friends? She stormed off just now. You shouldn’t piss off a friend.”

  Caden didn’t need a lecture from someone who claimed to be her friend but who wasn’t acting like it, not in his book. “And you shouldn’t betray your friend’s secrets. I knew she was pregnant at the CPR class, but if I hadn’t known, then you would have just told me something I’m sure she asked you not to tell.”

  Next corner. Turn. Would this song never end?

  Ruby didn’t stay silent long. “I don’t know if you know this, either, but...”

  Caden didn’t like the long pause, her effort to pique his curiosity. He wasn’t going to play games where Tana McKenna was concerned.

  “Don’t tell me her secrets,” Caden said tersely.

  “You’re pretty loyal to someone you’ve only met a few times.”

  Caden said nothing. Quick-quick, slow, slow. Surely this was the last verse of the song.

 
“So I’m not too worried if I say something you don’t already know. You won’t go blabbing about it.” Ruby was watching him closely, wanting to get his reaction to whatever little bombshell she was about to drop. “But if you didn’t know, there is no guy in the picture.”

  He kept his poker face in place.

  “Just FYI,” she added.

  There was no guy in the picture? Just a sperm donor, that was how Tana had described him. It sounded like they’d had a pretty bad breakup.

  Well, hell...

  If the coast was clear...

  He killed that idea before it could get going. Tana was not only on the rebound, she was on the rebound while pregnant. She had things to work out, a co-parenting relationship to form, if not a romantic reconciliation with her man before she gave birth. That would be the best thing for her baby. Caden could only get in her way.

  “You two looked pretty into each other,” Ruby said. “You seem like a nice guy.”

  Nice guys finished last.

  Decent men didn’t even start that kind of race.

  Tana must have been suspicious that Caden was pushing the boundaries of just friends when he’d offered to buy her a drink. She’d probably been right, and she’d shut that down: I’m not thirsty.

  “Obviously, there is a guy in the picture, or there recently was,” Caden said. “They’ve got a powerful reason to work things out. The most powerful reason.”

  Ruby shook her head vigorously. “No, you don’t understand.”

  “I understand plenty.”

  Tana had made it very clear that she didn’t want his help. She didn’t even want him to lend her a sympathetic ear. I’m sick of explaining this, she’d said.

  The song ended. Caden raised their hands and gave Ruby’s waist a light push, too, so she’d twirl away a little more quickly. A little farther. He didn’t care what the next song was, he was done dancing.

  The DJ started “The Cotton-eyed Joe,” a crowd-pleaser that filled the dance floor. Ruby got swept up by the incoming dancers, strangers linking arms as lines formed again. Caden headed for the table. There was only one other person there, sitting this one out. Caden nodded at him, sat and picked up his beer.

  The song had an inappropriate but popular crowd response to the chorus. After each line, the crowd on the dance floor cheerfully shouted bullshit to the beat.

  That fit his mood, but Caden wasn’t going to go back out to the dance floor to shout it at the top of his lungs. He drank his beer and looked for Tana over the brown glass of his bottle, but if she was out there, she was lost in the crowd.

  Not lost. She seemed like a woman who had a point to prove, either to the baby’s father or to her parents. Caden couldn’t begin to put himself in her shoes, but he could respect that she was a competent, successful woman, and she wanted to do things her way.

  His beer was finished. Caden didn’t want another. He could either sit here and stare at the crowd, or he could leave.

  He headed for the etched-glass door. Tana had finished their conversation. She’d been fed up with his nosy questions, and he didn’t blame her. There was no special spark between them, and he shouldn’t try to start one.

  They were only acquaintances.

  The crowd stomped their boots and shouted, “Bull—”

  Caden shoved the door open and headed into the night.

  Chapter Ten

  “Do you need me for anything?”

  Caden grinned at the younger paramedic’s obvious hope that the answer would be no. He finished his quick inventory of the medical kit. “Looks like I’ve got everything I need. Go.”

  “Thanks. I owe you.” He took off, practically running, to go on a ski vacation.

  Caden called after him. “Don’t break your leg on the mountain. I’m not going to cover your shifts for six weeks while you laze around in a cast.”

  The new guy’s flights had been changed at the last minute, so he’d called Caden in a panic, begging him to cover the last half of his shift, an easy standby at a sporting event. Every university athletic competition required an ambulance on site, so all Caden needed to do was hang out this Saturday, indoors and out of the cold.

  Basketball? Courtside? Caden had asked. He’d at least get a great view of the game if he covered the shift.

  No. Poolside.

  Caden had said yes.

  Coach Tana McKenna would surely be at the swim meet. He’d like to see how she was doing. Say hello, if they were anywhere close to each other. If not, that was okay. They were only acquaintances, after all, and Caden had any sparks, flames or burning desires under control.

  It was the middle of January. He’d met a girl before Christmas at the town’s annual yule log lighting. They’d hit it off well enough during dinner and a movie that they’d gone to another. He and Sarah weren’t hot and heavy, but things were heading that way.

  Keith had lost the bet that Caden would have Tana on his arm for New Year’s Eve, of course. He’d had Sarah instead, and it had been nice to have someone to kiss at midnight. Sarah had looked good in her evening gown. Caden had worn a tie and jacket to her friend’s party. There’d been no dancing, though. Maybe next date.

  Caden shut the medical kit at his feet and leaned back against the natatorium’s wall. So, this was Tana’s natural habitat. The indoor pool was huge, fifty meters long, like the pools he saw on TV during the Olympics, but a massive divider split it in two today. In the far half, swimmers were randomly cruising back and forth, doing various strokes, warming up or cooling down.

  This side had its red, white and blue lane lines running in the opposite direction. At the end closest to Caden, men in Speedos all stepped up onto diving blocks at the same time, shaking their arms out, pressing their goggles more tightly to their faces.

  “Swimmers, take your marks.”

  A short buzzer blast sent them flying off the blocks into dives so shallow, they looked horizontal. They surfaced when they were already halfway across the pool and started butterfly strokes. Out and back, out and back, and it was over.

  Caden looked up at the scoreboard. Forty-seven seconds? He’d barely had a chance to register just how much power was put into each stroke as the men scooped massive amounts of water out of their way. Televised swim meets hadn’t given Caden a real sense of the amount of force involved. The winner pounded the water with his fist.

  Cheers came from above Caden’s head. The pool deck was for swimmers, referees and other people who had a reason to be there, including him. A balcony ran all the way around the building, however, with stadium seating for the fans. It was pretty full across from the diving boards and high-dive platform, which loomed over its own smaller, square pool, probably deeper than this one.

  I’m the director for all the aquatics, Tana had said, on a September evening.

  Caden was impressed. He’d been impressed then, too, but this was really something. The giant three-pool space formed a tiled echo chamber for buzzers, splashes and the school cheers he recognized from the Masterson football games. The noise level was as excessive as the amount of energy college students had to burn.

  And their coaches?

  Caden took a breath of chlorine-scented air and allowed himself to look for Tana. He’d not looked for at least five full minutes, because she wasn’t the reason he was here today. He’d come to help out another paramedic and to hopefully not provide emergency medical care. That was all.

  There she was.

  She sat in a burgundy director’s chair, clipboard in hand, her long hair held back from her face by a thick, burgundy headband. She was surrounded by young men in Speedos and young women in swim caps and goggles. The swimmers stood over her, listening avidly to whatever Tana was saying, as they dripped water on the deck in a semicircle.

  Caden leaned a shoulder against the tiled wall and watched. Tana put her clipboard on
a card table behind her chair, then held her hand out, palm down. The swimmers slapped wet hands on top of hers, building a tower on the foundation she provided. Caden could read Tana’s lips easily as she said, “One, two, three.” The swimmers shouted Team. The word bounced off the tiled walls, echoing all around, as the team broke their huddle and dispersed in all directions.

  Tana reached back to retrieve her clipboard with a light smile on her face. Caden felt a smile tugging at his lips, too. This was a woman who was fully living, doing something she clearly loved to do, in a place where she wanted to be.

  And she was beautiful, every bit as beautiful as she was in his memory of a waltz.

  Honest to God, he wanted to find someone just like her.

  Sarah was nice, though.

  The splat of a body hitting the water, hard—like from the height of the platform diving board—echoed along with some worried ohs from the spectator gallery.

  The diving looked a hell of a lot more dangerous than the swimming. He ought to station himself closer to that pool. He hefted the medic bag over his shoulder and walked past the row of starting blocks to the other side. He found a new spot on the wall to lean against. He was only a few yards away from Tana, but she’d have to look pretty far to the side to see him.

  Caden decided to make it a point to say hello to Tana sometime today. It would be weird if he stood a few yards away and pretended he didn’t see her. She was the coach. Hard to miss.

  The racing lanes were empty. The diving must be break time for the swimmers, so this was probably the best chance he had to say hello to Tana without taking her away from her team. At the moment, one of her swimmers had all her attention, a tall girl in a swimming cap and a robe in Masterson’s burgundy and black colors. He’d wait until they were finished. Watch the diving. Ignore the anticipation building in his gut.