“Amen to that,” Connor said. Kevin concurred.
Noah noticed that Trace held his silence throughout the exchange, but he pitched in over the next half hour as they unloaded Noah’s things from the car and from the small trailer of furniture he’d brought from Baltimore. He’d need to shop for a lot more to fill up this place and turn it into a real home, but he was counting on Cait to help him with that. In the meantime, he could make do.
When they’d finished, Mick looked around the sparsely furnished living room and shook his head. “I think you could use some help here, son. We’ll put the women on the case.”
Noah shook his head. “It’s fine for now,” he insisted.
“He wants Caitlyn to have a say,” Connor guessed.
“Is that it?” Mick asked.
Noah nodded.
“He’s right,” Trace said, giving him an approving look for the first time. “Every woman wants to have a say in creating their own home.” His expression turned nostalgic. “When I bought our house and moved Abby in with the girls, even at that age Caitlyn and Carrie had very set ideas about decorating their rooms. Carrie’s was filled with frills and pink. Caitlyn’s was lined with bookshelves and a good solid desk for studying.”
Noah could imagine that. Her apartment now had a couple of homey touches, but it was mostly set up for function and bookshelves dominated.
“But he can’t live like this in the meantime,” Mick protested. “That sofa looks as if it would give a man a backache.”
“It does,” Noah confirmed. “But it will do for now.”
Mick continued to look dismayed, but he finally shrugged. “Your call.”
Connor glanced around. “Of course, it wouldn’t hurt to put a big flat-screen TV on that wall over there,” he suggested. “Seeing that you’re the only bachelor in the family at the moment, the men could come here to watch sports.”
Noah laughed. “I don’t watch a lot of sports,” he admitted. “Ask Cait.”
Kevin and Connor exchanged a shocked look. “No sports?” Connor said.
“Not a one,” Noah confirmed.
“That’s just pitiful,” Kevin said. “You don’t follow the Ravens or the Orioles?”
“I know one is football, one is baseball, but I’m not a hundred percent certain which is which,” Noah claimed, enjoying their stunned reactions.
Connor’s expression brightened. “We’ll teach you,” he suggested. “And, in the meantime, we’ll take your money by getting you to make completely absurd bets.”
“I’m not much of a gambler, either. Residents tend not to put their paltry salaries at risk.”
“So, no poker, either,” Kevin deduced.
“Afraid not.”
Both men regarded him with disappointment.
“Leave the man alone,” Mick ordered. “We need to remember that there must be some reason our Caitlyn loves him.”
Connor held up his hands. “Well, I for one really don’t want to think about why that might be.”
“Me, either,” Kevin was quick to say.
“And it goes without saying that I don’t want to know,” Trace chimed in. “I’m still trying really hard to convince myself that this pregnancy is some sort of miracle.”
Mick chuckled. “I’m pretty sure it’s safe to say that there’s only been one of those in history and the church has laid claim to it.”
Trace merely scowled at him. “Don’t take away my illusions, please. They’re all that let me sleep at night. And now with Carrie back under my roof, I have more than enough to worry about.”
“You don’t need to fret about her,” Mick told him. “I’ll be taking her under my wing when we go to Africa. That girl needs to see there’s more to life than chasing men all over the globe.”
Trace leveled a look at him. “And thinking about her in Africa is just the tip of my iceberg of worries where that girl is concerned.”
“Don’t you think I’m capable of looking after her?” Mick inquired indignantly.
“Of course he does,” Connor said quickly. “Now let’s go before Gram’s meal gets cold.” He winked at Noah. “There’s no greater sin than ruining dinner.”
Noah laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Figuring out O’Brien priorities and trying to find his place in the family was going to make life in Chesapeake Shores a lot more interesting than he’d anticipated. At least he had allies in his quest for Cait, or he did as long as he didn’t manage to mess up and blow any chance of winning her forever.
12
Before Caitlyn realized it, summer had flown by. It was already mid-October, the leaves were turning and there was an occasional chill in the air. It would only be a couple of months until the baby was here. She tried to imagine it and couldn’t.
Now, between her schedule at the hospital and carrying what felt like a twenty-pound weight around her middle, she was constantly exhausted. She spent what little spare time she had either sleeping or helping Dr. Davis with her foundation.
The latter at least gave her the illusion of making a contribution to a cause that meant the world to her. Dr. Davis had even included her in the talks with her grandfather about the medical facilities when he, Grandma Megan and Carrie had returned from their trip. To her surprise and relief, she’d found herself listening without envy and was able to make suggestions that Grandpa Mick had claimed were invaluable. The first clinic, in the village where she’d spent time, would be small, but it would be state-of-the-art and would, she decided, go a long way toward making up for her delayed return.
Even with everything else on her plate, Noah’s visits for her prenatal checkups were the highlights of her life. For an entire twenty-four hours at a stretch, she allowed herself to focus on shopping for the baby, sharing a quiet dinner with Noah and catching up on the life he was building in Chesapeake Shores.
He seemed to have settled in not only with the town, but with her family. She was constantly getting calls singing his praises. Those calls were always accompanied by less-than-subtle hints that it was time she paid a visit home. She knew that day would come, certainly by Thanksgiving, but she was determined to postpone it as long as possible. Noah, thank goodness, wasn’t one of those pressuring her. He seemed resigned to the pace she’d set for taking the next step in their relationship.
She glanced over at him now as he studied the directions for assembling the crib they’d purchased earlier. For a man who was intimately acquainted with the complex inner workings of the human body, he was surprisingly inept at this, it seemed.
“May I make one tiny suggestion?” she asked carefully, not wanting to wound his male pride.
“Sure.”
“Maybe you should just leave that till Grandpa Mick comes up here.”
Noah frowned at the suggestion, or perhaps it was the implication that he didn’t like. “Your grandfather and I are getting along great these days. We respect each other. I don’t want him to know I don’t know my way around a simple project like this.”
“Which is more important, your male ego or the safety of our baby, because right now it looks to me as if that crib is about sixty seconds from collapsing into a heap.”
Noah surveyed the lopsided crib, then sat back with a sigh. “You win.”
She hid a smile. “Not me, the baby. And before you start feeling like a failure, try to imagine Uncle Connor, son of the great Mick O’Brien, having not a single skill when it comes to construction, crib assembly or anything at all of that nature.”
Noah’s expression brightened considerably. “Connor’s hopeless?”
“Oh, yeah. Uncle Kevin’s only moderately better. He assembled a few things in Shanna’s bookstore when they first met, but my grandfather went right along behind him to make sure they were solid. He said he owed it
to Shanna to help her avoid a lawsuit from having the shelves collapse on her customers.”
There was no mistaking Noah’s relief. “Thank goodness,” he said. “I envisioned all sorts of male bonding over tools I can’t even identify. I was afraid that might be part of the criteria for winning acceptance into the O’Brien clan.”
She frowned at the wistful note in his voice. “I thought you all were thick as thieves down there. Am I wrong about that? Is there a problem you haven’t mentioned?”
“I think they may be starting to lose patience with my progress in sealing this deal with you,” he lamented.
That was something she could easily relate to. “Then you can just imagine how exasperated they are with me,” she countered. “And they don’t hesitate to tell me that. Since they know you’re on board, you probably don’t get the same full-court press I get every time I answer one of their calls.”
Noah regarded her with sympathy. “Now that I’ve seen for myself how persistent they can be, especially when they start ganging up, I actually feel a little sorry for you.”
She laughed. “Thanks, but I’ve pretty much learned to tune them out. That used to be difficult, but I’m getting a lot better at it with all this practice.”
He put aside the screwdriver he’d been using and folded up the crib’s assembly directions. “How about dinner? Where would you like to go?”
“We were shopping for hours. I thought we could stay in,” she said.
“Sure. Want me to go pick something up or do you want to order takeout?”
She probably should have been offended by his assumption that dinner at home meant food from a restaurant, but he was only going by past experience.
“I cooked,” she said casually. “One of Nell’s recipes.”
He studied her worriedly. “Really?”
“Oh, don’t look like that. If you must know, Dillon brought her up here yesterday and she helped me. I called, mentioned you were coming and she took pity on me. Or maybe it was you she took pity on.”
“That’s good, then,” Noah said, his relief unmistakable.
As Caitlyn lumbered awkwardly to her feet, she gave him a wry look. “Careful, pal. I could revert to being the princess of takeout.”
“Princess?”
“Mom’s the queen,” she said, grinning. “Much to Trace’s despair.”
“He did mention something like that,” Noah admitted.
“Not in front of her, I hope.”
“Come on. The man is smart,” Noah said. “He loves your mom, and he values his life.” He gave her a long, tender look. “As much as I love you.”
“And value your life?” she teased.
“Something like that,” he agreed, eyes twinkling. “So, what’s on the menu? And what can I do to help you get it on the table?”
“Table’s set and the meal is already warming in the oven. I can do it. Sit back and relax. Turn on the news. It should be about time for the sports report. You might learn something new about the Ravens. I gather the guys are trying to educate you on the finer points of football.”
“They are trying,” he confirmed. “But I’m still at the stage when all I see are the potential injuries during every tackle. I hope this baby is a girl. I’m not sure I could take sending a kid of ours onto a football field and I doubt there’s any chance I could stop it.”
“And what makes you think our daughter wouldn’t be a tomboy?”
Noah actually shuddered at that. “You weren’t, were you?”
“Not really, but Carrie and I were little daredevils. Ask Mom to fill you in on how many times we nearly gave her heart failure.”
Noah held up his hands. “Oh, no. If I hear those tales, I might try to come up with some way to keep that baby in the womb until puberty.”
“I’d kill you first,” Caitlyn said, rubbing her huge belly.
She was on her way to the kitchen when Noah snagged her hand and pulled her down onto his lap.
“I love you, Cait.” He rested his hand atop hers on her stomach. “And I love this child we’ve created.”
She held his gaze. “I know. Me, too.”
He started to say more, but she touched a finger to his lips. “Don’t,” she whispered.
Because if he asked her right now to marry him, she was feeling just sentimental enough to say yes. And no matter how close she might be to that moment, it still didn’t feel a hundred percent right. And until she could say yes without a single reservation, it would be less than Noah deserved.
* * *
Spending the evening with Cait had been exactly the way Noah had envisioned their married life to be, filled with laughter and talk about the impending arrival of the baby. Despite his determination to wait her out, it was getting harder and harder to miss out on all the memories they should be making together right now.
He’d almost pushed once more for her to marry him, but she’d immediately silenced him before he could get the words out. Once again he’d bitten back his frustration and let her have her way.
As they sat in the kitchen over breakfast, he noted that she was watching him warily.
“What?” he asked.
“I know you started to ask me a question last night and I stopped you,” she began.
“True. What’s your point?”
“We never seem to talk about how you see the future shaping up,” she complained.
Noah stared at her incredulously. “And that’s my fault? Believe me, I’ll talk about it whenever you’re ready,” he said reasonably. “You keep saying you need time. I’ve been giving it to you.”
“Well, stop. It’s annoying.”
“Exactly the sort of rational response I’d expect from you,” he commented dryly.
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he saw the temper spark in Cait’s eyes. He honestly couldn’t say he regretted it, either. Maybe it was past time to force the issue. His current strategy certainly didn’t seem to be getting them one bit closer to his goal of being married before the baby arrived.
“Are you trying to start a fight with me?” she asked. “If you mention me being hormonal, we can go from round one straight to a knockout.”
“Actually, I’ve been trying very hard not to,” he said, fighting a smile. Any hint that he was amused by her reaction really would lead to war. He needed some sort of in-between stage when rational conversation was still possible.
Cait apparently heard how ridiculous she sounded and sighed. “Sorry. What is wrong with me?”
“Not much from my perspective,” he said, studying her with an appreciative look. “You look amazing. You’re positively glowing. Impending motherhood suits you.”
“Men always say that, especially around the time they figure anything else will set off a tantrum.”
“No, they say it because it’s true. A woman carrying a child is beautiful.”
“I don’t feel beautiful,” she said, her expression wistful. “I haven’t seen my feet in weeks.”
“Then you can take my word for it. They’re beautiful, too.”
“Now I know you’re lying. I need a pedicure in the worst way, but I can’t reach my feet.”
“Is this how it’s going to go?” he inquired. “Anything nice I say, you disagree with me?”
“Pretty much. Welcome to my perverse world.”
“There is one thing I’d like to talk about seriously before I head back to Chesapeake Shores,” he ventured carefully.
“Oh?” Her expression promptly turned wary.
“The house is pretty bare, except for a few essentials,” he began. “Your family has been all over me about that.”
She shrugged. “So buy furniture.”
“I thought you might want to have something to say about it,”
he said. “Any chance you could find a day to come down and go shopping with me?”
“Noah, it’s your house. You don’t need me to pick out furniture.”
Her words cut right through him. “Is that how you really see it?” he asked, his tone suddenly icy.
She flinched visibly, but held her ground. “It’s how it is. I’ll be right here in Baltimore for the foreseeable future. You live in Chesapeake Shores.”
“I know where we live now,” he retorted in frustration. “I thought you might want some say over decorating where we might live together in the future.”
“I can’t think that far ahead,” she claimed, though even as the words snapped out, she looked as if she might be regretting them.
Noah relied on what she said, though, not how she looked. What else could he do? “Okay, then. I’ll get started on my own,” he said as if it no longer mattered. “Your mom’s eager to help. Carrie mentioned she’d go shopping with me, too.”
For an instant, there was a flicker of alarm in her eyes, but she refused to back down. “Good. They’ll have some ideas, I’m sure. They both have great taste.”
“They do,” Noah agreed.
He stood up and pressed a kiss to her forehead, trying not to let his exasperation show. He had no intention of starting a fight over furniture or anything else. Maybe it was time, though, to reevaluate the odds that they were going to work this out, after all.
* * *
“I don’t get it,” Noah admitted to Connor on Sunday as they poured chips and salsa into bowls in preparation for a gathering of the O’Brien men for the Ravens game. “Was I completely crazy for thinking she might care about how this place is furnished? Or is the really crazy part thinking she’ll ever actually want to live here? Every time I think we’re moving forward, albeit by inches, she throws a curve like this at me and leaves me wondering.”
“We’re talking about a woman, man,” Connor said. “We could take a four-year degree in the subject and still not know the first thing about how their minds work.”
The Christmas Bouquet Page 17