An Accidental Family

by Ami Weaver

  “Don’t borrow trouble,” she reminded herself as she turned and went inside.

  The chime of the door caught her attention and she hurried to greet the customer.

  Fifteen minutes later she started on a new arrangement, this one for a new mom and baby at the hospital. They really needed more of this kind of business—more happy occasions like...

  Babies.

  Pregnant.

  Lainey gulped and gripped the edge of the worktable, her eyes on the array of delicate pastel flowers she’d gathered. She only had about seven months to stabilize her shop and get ready to be a new mom herself. A single new mom.

  Seven months.

  No one could ever accuse her of doing things the easy way.

  * * *

  Ben Lawless pulled into the driveway of his grandmother’s old farmhouse and stared. Same white paint, black shutters. The wide porch was missing its swing, but two rockers sat in its place. The two huge maples in the front yard had dropped most of their leaves. Funny, he’d been gone for so many years but this old house still felt like home.

  He frowned at the strange car parked behind his grandmother’s trusty Buick. Last thing he wanted was to talk to anyone other than his grandma, to deal with friendliness and well-meaning questions. Acting normal was exhausting.

  He pushed open the truck door, stepped out and scanned the layout of the front yard. Plenty of room for a ramp, though some of the porch railing would have to be removed, and it would block one of the flowerbeds lining the house’s foundation. He kicked at the leaves littering the cracked walkway. The uneven concrete posed a hazard even to an able-bodied person. Why couldn’t Grandma admit she needed help?

  Why did you assume she didn’t need it?

  His self-recrimination didn’t get any farther as the front door opened and framed his beaming grandmother in her wheelchair. He tried not to wince at the sight. She’d always been so tough, strong and able, and now she looked so small. He moved up the walk and the stairs to the porch.

  “Grandma.” He bent down to give her an awkward hug in the chair, afraid to hold on too tight. “How are you?”

  She hugged him back firmly and patted his face. “I’m good. Making the best of this, I hope.” She studied his face for a moment, her clear blue eyes seeing too much. “I’m so glad you’re here. Not sleeping well?”

  He straightened, not surprised by the observation. “Good enough.”

  She gave him a look, but dropped the subject and rolled back into the house. “Where are my manners? Come in, come in. I want you to meet a very good friend of mine.”

  Ben braced himself as he followed her across the familiar living room to the kitchen. Hopefully this friend wasn’t one of the mainstays of Holden’s Crossing’s gossip mill. Last thing he needed was word getting out and people asking him questions or making accusations. He stopped dead when he looked into the cool blue gaze of the gorgeous—and young—blond at the kitchen table.

  “Ben Lawless, meet Lainey Keeler. Lainey, this is my grandson. The one who’s a firefighter in Grand Rapids.” The pride in Rose’s voice made Ben’s stomach twist. “Lainey was a few years behind you in school, Ben.”

  No way. This was his grandmother’s friend? Long dark blond ponytail, a few strands loose around a heart-shaped face. Clear blue eyes, smooth creamy skin. Full breasts a snug pink tee didn’t hide. He gave her a brief nod, forced the proper words out. “Nice to meet you.”

  Her smile curved, but didn’t reach her eyes. “Same here. Rose has told me so much about you.”

  “Did she?” He tensed at her comment, then forced himself to relax. It didn’t mean she actually knew anything. He rested his hand on his grandmother’s thin shoulder. “Grandma, I’m going to bring in my things, okay?”

  Lainey rose. “I’ll walk you out.” She leaned down to plant a kiss on his grandma’s cheek and gave her a hug. “I’ll see you in a couple of days, Rose.”

  “Don’t work too hard, honey,” Grandma said, and Ben nearly laughed. If he remembered correctly, none of the Keelers had to work. They’d been given anything and everything on the proverbial platter.

  Ben caught a whiff of her scent, something floral, as she moved past him. Since he’d gotten boxed in, he followed her out into the cool early October night.

  Once on the porch, she turned to him with a frown. “She’s glad you’re here.”

  “And you’re not.”

  Those big blue eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure. She’s been struggling for months now. Where were you then?”

  Temper flared at the accusation in her tone. He’d felt bad enough once he’d realized how much help his grandma needed. He didn’t need this chick sticking her nose in, too. No matter how hot she was. “She isn’t big on admitting she needs help.” Seemed to run in the family.

  Lainey gave him a look that said he was full of it and stomped off the porch. “She’s in her eighties. How could you not come visit and check on her?”

  Guilt lanced through him. “She always said she was fine, okay? I’m here now.” Why did he care if this woman thought he was a total heel?

  She shrugged. “You still should have checked on her. How far is it up here? She’s so proud of you. But you never bothered to visit.”

  Even in the dim light he saw the sparks in her blue gaze, the anger on his grandmother’s behalf. “I’m here now,” he said, his own temper rising.

  “Till you leave. Then where will she be?” She spun around and strode across the yard.

  God help him, he couldn’t pull his gaze off her tight little tush. She climbed in the little car and slammed the door. The spray of gravel that followed her out to the road said it all.

  Well, great. He’d managed to tick off his grandmother’s hot little friend.

  Ben shook his head and stepped off the porch, walked to his truck to get his bags. He’d done something far worse than that. His best friend was dead, thanks to him, and any problems with Lainey Keeler were not even on his list of important things. It made no difference what she thought of him.

  Back inside, his grandma frowned at him. “Why were you rude to Lainey?”

  But of course it would matter to Grandma. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day. I didn’t know you two were friends.”

  “We are. We met awhile back when she volunteered for Senior Services and just clicked, as you young people say. She comes out every Wednesday. More if she can. I didn’t think you knew her.” His grandmother’s eyes were sharp on his face.

  “I don’t. Just knew of her. She was four years behind me in school, as you said. How are you feeling?”

  She studied him for a second, then seemed to accept the change of topic. “Every day is a little harder. I’m so glad you’re here and can make this old house a little easier to live in. I don’t want to leave it.”

  These last words were spoken in a soft tone. Ben knew this was the only home she’d lived in with his grandfather, her husband of fifty years. Her best friend.

  The kind of love and relationship he’d ended for Jason and Callie.

  Pain pounded at his temples and he closed his eyes. He shoved it down, locked it back into the deepest part of him he could. Thing was, that place was nearly full these days.

  “You won’t have to leave, Grandma. You’ll have to tell me what you’d like done besides the ramp. Even in the dark I noticed the walk out front has seen better days.”

  Her smile was rueful. “A lot around here has seen better days, Ben.”

  “We’ll get it fixed up, Grandma. You won’t have to leave,” he repeated.

  “I know. I’m very grateful to you.” She maneuvered the chair toward the living room. “Let me show you to your room. Well, partway anyway.”

  Ben started to say he knew where it was, but of course
she’d have taken over the downstairs bedroom after the arthritis in her hip got too bad. “Which one?” There were three upstairs.

  She stopped at the base of the stairs and looked up, the sorrow and longing clear on her face. “The back bedroom. It has the best view and is the biggest room. Lainey freshened it up for you. Dusted, clean sheets, the whole shebang. The bathroom is ready, too.”

  His grandparents’ old room.

  “Okay. Tell her thanks for me.”

  Grandma backed her chair up and gave him a little smile. “You can tell her yourself. Didn’t I mention she visits a lot?”

  He stared at her. Uh-oh. “Grandma. I’m not interested.”

  She slid him a look and her smile widened. “No one said you were.”

  He’d walked right into that one.

  * * *

  Smoke filled the room, smothering him, searing his lungs, his eyes, his skin. God, he couldn’t see through the gray haze. A cough wracked him, tearing at his parched throat. He couldn’t yell for his friend. Where was Jason? He couldn’t reach him. Had to get him out before the house came down around them. A roar, a crack, and a fury of orange lit the room. The ceiling caved in a crash fueled by the roar of flames. He spun around, but the door was blocked by a flaming heap of debris. Under it, a boot. Jason. Coming to save him.

  Ben woke with a start, his eyes watering and the breath heaving out of his lungs as if he’d been sprinting for his life. Where the hell was he? Moonlight slanted through the window, silver on the floor. The curtain stirred in the faint breeze. He sat up and pushed himself through the fog of sleep. Grandma Rose’s house. Had he cried out? God, what if she’d heard him? Shame flowed over him like a lava river. He stepped out of bed, mindful of the creaky floor, and walked down the hall to the bathroom near the landing.

  No sound came from downstairs.

  He exhaled a shaky breath and went into the bathroom. He’d been afraid of this—of the nightmare coming. He had no power over it—over what it was, what it did to him. No control.

  He turned on the squeaky faucet with unsteady hands and splashed cold water on his face. There’d be no more sleep for him tonight.

  CHAPTER TWO

  LAINEY WALKED INTO Frank’s Grocery after closing the shop and pulled out her mental shopping list. Nothing fancy. Just sauce, pasta, shrimp, some good cheese. If she had more energy she’d make the sauce from scratch, but not tonight. So far the hardest thing about being pregnant was being so tired at the end of the day. She grabbed a basket from the stack and headed for the first aisle.

  She came to a dead stop when she spotted the tall, dark-haired man frowning at the pasta sauce display.

  Oh, no. Ben Lawless.

  She didn’t want to chat with Rose’s grumpy grandson. He’d made it pretty clear he wasn’t interested in being friendly. Since he stood smack in front of the sauce she needed, though, she’d have to talk to him.

  He glanced up as she approached. For a heartbeat she found herself caught by those amazing light green eyes, by the grief she saw searing through them.

  What the heck? She cleared her throat. “How are you?”

  He tipped his head in her direction, his expression now neutral. “Fine, thanks.”

  His uninterest couldn’t have been clearer, though his tone was perfectly polite.

  “I just need to get in here.” She pointed to the shelves in front of him. He stepped back, hindered by a woman and cart behind him, and Lainey slipped in, bumping him in the process. A little shiver of heat ran through her. “Sorry,” she muttered, and grabbed the jar with fingers that threatened to turn to butter.

  She managed to wiggle back out, brushing him again, thanks to the oblivious woman behind him who kept him penned between them. She plopped the sauce into her basket and offered what she hoped passed for a smile. “Um, thanks.”

  “No problem,” he murmured.

  She turned around and hurried out of the aisle, unsettled by both the physical contact and his apparent loss. So Ben had a few secrets. That flash of grief, deep and wrenching, hit her again.

  Rose had never mentioned anything. Then again, why would she? She’d respect her grandson’s privacy. It was one of the things Lainey loved about her friend.

  It only took a few more minutes to gather the rest of the ingredients. Her path didn’t cross Ben’s again, and she unloaded her few purchases at the checkout with relief.

  Outside, she took a big breath of the cool night air, and some of the tension knotted inside her eased. Fall was her favorite time of year. A mom and small daughter examined a display of pumpkins outside Frank’s and her thoughts shifted back to her baby. Next year she’d be carving a pumpkin for her five-month-old. Oh, sure, he or she would be too small to appreciate it, but despite the precariousness of her position the idea gave her a little thrill.

  She deposited the bags in the trunk and slipped into the driver’s seat to start the car.

  Click. Then nothing.

  Oh, no. Maybe if she tried it again....

  Click.

  She leaned forward, rested her head on the steering wheel, and fought the urge to scream. Not owning any jumper cables, she’d have to go back into Frank’s and find someone who did. While she was at it she’d hope like crazy the problem was simply a dead battery, and not something expensive. She yanked the keys out of the ignition, grabbed her purse and got out of the car. One thing was for sure—she’d push the stupid car home before she’d ask her parents for help.

  She nearly collided with Ben coming out of the store.

  “Whoa,” he said, checking his cart before he ran her down.

  Before she could think, she blurted, “Can you help me?” Her face heated as he stared at her. “Ah, never mind. I’ll find...” She gestured vaguely behind him but he shook his head.

  “What do you need?”

  “My car won’t start. I think the battery’s dead. The dome light’s been staying on longer than it should and it didn’t go off at all this time. I don’t have any jumper cables.” Realizing she was babbling, she clamped her mouth shut.

  He nodded. “Where are you parked?”

  She pointed. “There. The silver one.” Which he no doubt already knew, since he’d seen her in it the other night. “The space in front of me is open.”

  “Okay. Give me a minute. I’ll pull around.”

  He walked off and she stared after him. Shoot. Why hadn’t she found someone else? On the other hand, the whole process wouldn’t take very long. Then she could be on her way back home to fix her dinner and curl up in her bed.

  The wind picked up, skittering dry leaves across the parking lot, and she tucked her hands under her arms to keep warm as she went back to her car. She propped the hood open as a big black truck rumbled into the empty spot.

  Ben got out, cables already in hand, and went to work on her battery. Even though she knew how to hook them up—her mother would be appalled—she let him do it, because it was easier than having his carefully bland gaze on her.

  He glanced up. “Do you know how to do this?”

  Something in his tone made her bristle. She lifted her chin just a bit. “Actually, I do. I can even change a tire.”

  His mouth twitched in what could have been a prequel to a smile. “Good for you.”

  Before she could reply, a voice shrilled nearby. “Lainey? Lainey Keeler, is that you?”

  Ben returned to the battery and the fragile moment was shattered. Lainey internally groaned as she turned to see Martha Turner, one of her mother’s best friends, hurrying toward her.

  “Hi, Mrs. Turner.”

  “Goodness, what are you doing?” The woman peeked around Lainey and frowned. “Do your parents know you have car trouble? I just left your mother at the Club. Have you called her yet? I’ll never understand why you
traded in that cute little coupe your husband bought you for—for this.” She fluttered her hands at the car.

  Not offended, Lainey bit back a laugh. She had to be the only person who’d ever traded in a new car for a used one. “Of course I didn’t bother either of them, Mrs. Turner. It’s really not a big deal. Just a dead battery.”

  Behind her, Ben cleared his throat. “Sorry to interrupt, but I need to start the truck now. It’s loud.”

  “Okay.” She gave Mrs. Turner an apologetic smile. “It was nice to see you.”

  Mrs. Turner’s gaze went to Ben, reaching into the cab of the truck, then back to Lainey. “You too, dear. Take care.”

  Lainey could almost see the wheels turning in the other woman’s head and imagined her mother would get a phone call before Mrs. Turner even made it inside Frank’s. She sighed. She’d get her own call in a matter of minutes after that, and spend a half an hour calming her mother all over nothing.

  So much for a relaxing evening.

  Ben came back around and stood, hands in pockets, staring at her engine. Finally he lifted his gaze. “What did you trade in?”

  Not exactly sure how to interpret his tone, she spoke carefully. “A Mercedes. After my divorce.”

  She didn’t mention the sleek little car had been a bribe—an attempt to keep her in the marriage. Getting rid of it had been a victory of sorts. One of the very few she’d managed.

  She caught a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “That’s funny?”

  He rocked back on his heels. “Not the divorce. The car. I wouldn’t think—” He stopped and she frowned.

  “Think what?”

  He looked at her, amusement gone, and seemed actually to see straight into her. The full effect of his gaze caused a funny little hitch in her breath. “I think you can start the engine now,” he said, and she swallowed a surge of disappointment.

  Which was crazy. She didn’t care what he thought of her.

  She slid into the car and tried not to notice when he braced one arm on the roof of the car and the other on the top of the door. When he leaned down she got a tantalizing glimpse of the smooth, hard muscles of his chest through the gap in his partially unbuttoned shirt.