More Than She Expected

by Karen Templeton

  “Okay, you might have a point. Or two.”

  He chuckled. “Tea’s fine.” He pushed away from the door and over to the counter, where he started opening containers, and she thought, In another life...

  “Silverware’s in that drawer right in front of you,” Laurel said, pulling out another bottle of tea for Tyler, water for herself. “Paper plates in the cupboard above...”

  A few minutes later, the storm having moved off to torment someone else, they were out on the deck, the setting sun beginning to tinge the quivering sycamore leaves an apricot gold. Laurel planted herself in one of the two wicker rockers she’d also taken off her grandmother’s hands, while Ty took the other one, setting their food and drinks on a small wrought-iron table between them. Out on the lawn a pair of robins scampered in opposite directions, occasionally stopping, heads cocked, before jabbing their beaks into the grass for a juicy earthworm.

  As ravenous as those birdies, Laurel unwrapped her burger, checking to make sure it was cooked through before biting into it. Tyler, who’d chomped down willy-nilly, frowned over at her.

  “S’it okay?”

  “Delicious,” she said, chewing. “Thank you.”

  “Matt tends to cook ’em to death, sorry.”

  “No, it’s fine. Really.”

  Tyler took a swig of his tea, then leaned back in his chair. “So...you said you were a writer?” Her mouth full, Laurel nodded. “What do you write?”

  She swallowed, then grabbed a napkin to wipe ketchupy juice off her chin. “Young adult novels. For hire, though, not really my own stuff.” At his frown, she smiled. “And...you have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

  “Umm...I’m guessing somebody pays you to write books for them?”

  “Pretty much, yeah. My publisher gives me the storylines and I flesh them out. For a series aimed at tweens—nine-to twelve-year-old girls. The Hamilton High Good Luck Club. I’m guessing you’ve never heard of it?”

  “Um...no. But I’ve got a fifteen-year-old niece... Maybe she has.”

  “Very possible. The series has been going for nearly twenty years now. But I’ve only been writing for it for five.”

  “Impressive.”

  “Not really,” she said with a light laugh. “I write fast, and it pays fairly well. And I don’t have to worry about—” She caught herself. “Traffic. Or clothes.” She plucked at her attire. “Or office gossip. In some ways, it’s the best job in the world. For me, anyway.”

  “So you’re cool with telling somebody else’s stories?”

  “Oh, I’ve had a couple of other things published. Made bupkiss with them. Love to write, not a big fan of starving. So for now, this is good. And does Boomer always stare like that?”

  Because he was sitting in front of them, mouth open, drooling, his eyebrows twitching as he looked from one to the other.

  “God, dog,” Tyler said, “you are beyond pathetic. Go lay down!”

  On a groan, the dog chuffed over to the railing and collapsed on the boards...but without taking his golden eyes off the burger in Laurel’s hands.

  “Oh, come on,” Laurel said. “How can you say no to that face?”

  Ty stuffed the last of his burger into his mouth, reached for his plate of salads. “That face is what got me into trouble to begin with.”

  “Trouble?”

  “Yeah. Okay, so a couple years back, I was dating this girl who decided she wanted a dog. So she asks me to go to the pound with her, help her choose. I say, sure, whatever. And while she’s looking at all these little rat dogs—you know, with those yippy little barks?—I turn around and see this thing sitting in his cage, just...watching me.”

  At that, Boomer lifted his head, his attention fixed on Tyler. Whose attention was every bit as fixed on the dog. Laurel smiled.

  “He knows you’re talking about him.” Grunting, Tyler dispatched another bite of potato salad. “So what happened?”

  “I looked away. Because the dog was creeping me out, staring at me like that. And those teeth.” The dog cocked his head, and Laurel nearly choked on the bite in her mouth. “So anyway, the girl—Hannah—she picks out her dog, we do all the paperwork, and then we leave—”

  “You left him there?” Ty looked at her, then tipped his tea bottle at the dog, and Laurel nodded. “Right. Sorry. Continue.”

  “Anyway...so I take Hannah and the rat dog back to her house, and then I come home, and I can’t get the damn dog’s face out of my mind. That one, not hers. Hers, I forgot about the minute I dropped her off. But I’m thinking, I don’t want a dog. Don’t need a dog, don’t want the responsibility, the pressure of having to keep something alive...” He blew out a breath. “But that face. Yeah,” he said when Boomer heaved himself to his feet again and came over, his whole back end shimmying as he laid his chin in Tyler’s lap. “This face,” he said, cupping the saggy-jowled head in his hands. “Suckered me right in.”

  “So you went back and got him.”

  “Like the second they opened the next morning.”

  He straightened, giving the dog a playful slap on the rump. Boomer twisted around, his stubby little tail a blur as he play-growled, giving Ty the side-eye, and Laurel laughed. The dog butted Tyler’s hand, asking for more, and Tyler lightly smacked him again, making the beast bark. Tyler grabbed him, putting him in a headlock to make him stop barking, kissing him between the ears when he’d calmed down.

  “You’re a good dog daddy,” Laurel said.

  “I do my best. Since that’s the only kind of daddy I intend to be.”

  “Really? You don’t want children some day?”

  “Considering how much of a pain in the ass I was as a kid?” His mouth screwed up on one side. “I can’t even begin to imagine the karma if I had my own kids.”

  Laurel looked at him, biting her tongue to keep from saying something stupid like, “Aren’t you a little young to be making decisions like that?” Because, really, who was she to say? Especially given her own experience?

  And enough of this foolishness, she thought, calling the dog.

  Boomer immediately switched loyalties, his head swinging around so fast his jowls jiggled. “Come here, baby,” she said, and the dog trotted over, planting his quivering bum on the boards before she even told him to sit.

  Tyler sighed. “You’re gonna spoil him.”

  “Oh, and like you don’t? Here you go, sweetie...”

  She held out a piece of her burger, which the dog took so carefully, so gently, Laurel gasped. “Whoa. I’m impressed. Good job.”

  “Can’t take any credit, I’m afraid. That’s how he was when I got him. Begs like hell, but at least he’s polite about it. Boomer, no, she doesn’t want your slobbery old face in her lap. Or in her face. Boomer, for God’s sake,” he said, getting to his feet to grab the dog’s collar, since by now he was slathering her face with kisses, and Laurel was helpless with laughter, and the harder she laughed the more the dog licked, until—laughing as well—Tyler yanked the dog off her.

  “Boundaries, mutt, jeez.” Then to her: “You okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes with one hand as she rearranged her rumpled pajamas with the other. “Really.”

  Except then she realized Tyler had gone stock-still, holding on to his dog as he stared at her lap. No...not her lap. Her belly.

  Clearly shocked, his gaze met hers.

  “Yes, I’m pregnant,” she said, getting to her feet. “Are we ready for dessert?”

  Chapter Four

  His head spinning, Tyler followed Laurel into the kitchen, staring dumbly as she got down plates, yanked the silverware drawer open for forks.

  “Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

  “Because...we hardly know each other? Because this has not
hing to do with you? And anyway, it’s not as if I’m trying to keep it a secret, not my fault if you didn’t notice....” She opened the dessert box and gasped. “Ohmigod, this looks incredible. Do we even need forks—?”

  “Forget the damn dessert, Laurel! This is important!”

  Those cool blue eyes met his. “Agreed. But not to you. Or for you.” She turned to lean one hip against the edge of the counter, crossing her arms over what he could now see was a definite bump. “Or did something happen between us and I missed it...?”

  “No! I mean...no. It’s just...” His hand shook a little when he streaked it through his hair. “It’s a shock. That’s all.”

  She’d cut a slice of the kuchen or whatever it was and dumped it on a plate, was now forking a bite into her mouth. “Tell me about it,” she said softly as she chewed.

  “So...this isn’t one of those deals where you decided to have a baby on your own? Like you went to a sperm bank or something?”

  “No,” she said on a dry laugh.

  “So where’s the father?”

  “Right now?” Not looking at him, she took another bite. “I have no idea.”

  “Does he even know?”

  “Yes. Does he care? Not really.”

  “Dammit, the kid has the right to know who his, or her, father is—”

  “Plenty of kids grow up with only one parent,” she said, her gaze plowing into his. “For plenty of reasons. And do just fine.”

  “True, but—”

  “I can take care of my kid, Tyler,” she said, walking past him to return to the deck. She plopped down in the same chair, hooking one bare foot around the leg of a stool to haul it over. Her feet up, she shoved in another bite and sighed. “God, this is so good. You said your sister-in-law made this?”

  Tyler dragged the other chair around to face her, dropped into it. “How can you sound like this is no big deal?”

  She poked at the cake for a minute, then looked out over the yard, where fireflies began to flicker in the dusk. “Because if I let myself think about what a big deal this is, I’ll freak out. Not an option. I have no choice but to hold it together. If you’re not on board with that, you can leave.” Her eyes briefly met his again before she took another bite. “I promise you, this little guy will know who his father is. That much is in my power. Whether he ever lays eyes on the man isn’t. I knew he was starting a new job out of state, but not what. Or where. He even changed his cell phone number. And who has a landline these days?” She shrugged.

  His chest tight, Tyler looked away, and Laurel sighed.

  “He’s in his late forties. His kids from his first marriage are grown, he’s not interested in starting over. And I knew that, going in,” she said, almost more to herself than Tyler. “In fact...” Her mouth twisted into a wry smile. “He’d said he’d been fixed. Showed me the paperwork, even.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “You don’t seriously think I was simply going to take his word for it, do you?”

  “How...romantic.”

  “This wasn’t about romance, it was about... Hell, I’m not sure anymore what it was about.” She stabbed another piece of the dessert. “Other than something that would have ended eventually, anyway. Since, you know. New job. Out of state.”

  “And yet...” Tyler gestured toward her belly, and she sighed.

  “I know. And believe me, I wasn’t exactly thrilled, either. Not at first. Raising a child on my own was definitely not part of the Big Design for my life. But after the initial shock began to wear off, I realized...things rarely happen the way you envision them, right?”

  “So you’re going to keep the kid?”

  Her plate empty, Laurel set it on the glass table, then looked at him, a slight smile curving her lips. “Besides my grandmother, I have no other family. Not that I communicate with, anyway. And I’m going to be thirty-six come August. This could well be my only shot at this. I’m also already so in love with this baby...” She glanced down, caressing her belly, then back at him. “So, yes, absolutely I’m going to keep him. I’m not going to say I’m not scared, or think this is going to be easy.” The smile grew a little bigger. “But I am excited.”

  “But the father...”

  “Hey, I did my part. Ball’s in his court.”

  “Except you don’t know where he is.”

  “Ah, but he knows where I am. Where we are. Since I found out right after I moved in.” She cupped her belly again, and Tyler wondered how he’d missed it before. Of course, you don’t always see what you’re not looking for, either.

  “Look,” he said, “my brother’s a cop, maybe he can help you track this dude down, make him realize...” When she shook her head, he blew out a sigh. “He has obligations, Laurel. Legal ones—”

  “Well aware of that. I’m also very aware of how little obligation has to do with love.” Boomer walked over and laid his head in her lap; smiling, she gently stroked his head. “My father married my mother because she was pregnant, because his parents—not my mother’s—bullied him into it, to save face with their country club buddies. Meaning my parents only stayed together because of me. No, actually, they stayed together because of the choke hold my grandparents had over my father. And don’t think I didn’t know it.”

  She looked out into the yard again. “At least these days that stigma is more or less gone. People have kids without being married all the time. But I know what it’s like, having someone around who doesn’t want to be there. How it makes you feel...like a mistake that can never be fixed.” Her gaze met Tyler’s again. “I refuse to do that to my child. If Barry decides, at some point, he wants to be a part of his son’s life, fine. But I would never, ever force the issue. You can’t guilt someone into being a parent.”

  “But financially, at least—”

  Laurel leaned over, covering his hand with her own. “Your concern is very sweet, but totally unnecessary. I’m okay. We’re okay. Really. I’m in a much better position to take this on than a lot of women—or girls—who find themselves in this situation. And don’t think I’m not grateful for that.” She patted his hand. “Let it go, sweetie. This isn’t your battle to fight.”

  True. But that didn’t stop his racing heart. Or thoughts.

  “So how far along...?”

  “Beginning of October. Halfway there.”

  “A boy, you said?”

  “Yeah.” Her mouth curved. “Jonathon. Sounds good with Kent, no? I thought about Clark, but...it’s been done.”

  Tyler smiled in spite of himself. “You feel okay?”

  Laurel leaned her head against the cushioned chair, her eyes twinkling. “And what would you know about that?”

  “My brother Ethan’s wife—Merry—she was sick a lot with a couple of her pregnancies. Early on, anyway. She said that was pretty normal?”

  “It’s different for every woman. And every pregnancy. Other than eating everything in sight, I’m fine.” Then she stood. “But I do get tired easily, so...”

  “Right, sorry.” Tyler rose and called the dog then let Laurel walk him to the front door, where he turned, seeing something in those blue eyes that nearly shorted out his brain. A...calmness, he thought. Or at least a resolve. Which went along with what he’d sensed earlier, about her knowing who she was. What she was about. Of course, he’d had no idea then she was pregnant. But now, seeing the way she’d come to terms with this huge shake-up in her life...

  Was it weird, how much that turned him on?

  His head spinning, he started down the steps, then turned back. “I’ll be here pretty early, to get going on the wall. Before it gets too hot.”

  “Good idea. Oh! The food—”

  “Nah, you keep it.” He glanced at her belly, felt his face heat. “You two need it more than I do.”

  He was
almost to the steps before she called out, “Hey—whatever happened to that girl? The one you were with when you found Boomer?”

  He shrugged. “We broke up pretty much right after that. It wasn’t working out. You know how that goes.”

  “But at least you got a great dog out of the deal. So serendipity, right?”

  Tyler looked down at the mutt, sitting on one hip at the top of the steps and sniffing the night air. Doofus. “Right,” he said, then took his dog—and his free-as-a-freaking-bird self, back to his messy, quiet, peaceful, house....

  * * *

  The following Monday, Laurel picked up her grandmother in her trusty old Volvo, duly admiring Gran’s sparkly, Indian-print blouse and equally sparkly earrings before heading back to the highway and, eventually, to Ty’s salvage warehouse. An estate sale hussy from way back, Gran had squealed with glee when Laurel invited her to go along. And now, strapped all snug in the passenger seat, she beamed like a little girl on her way to see Santa.

  But not, apparently, for the reason Laurel expected.

  “I cannot tell you how grateful I am to get away from that place,” Gran said as they zoomed past the first of several shopping complexes anchored by a Walmart or Home Depot or Costco. “Honestly, all those old biddies do is complain about their aches and pains, or bitch about this or that relative.”

  “I thought you loved it there!”

  “Oh, the facility is lovely. And the food’s not bad. But the people. What a bunch of whiners. Seriously. So this is good,” she said, her hands clamped around the top of the Kate Spade. “And I get to see your hot-to-trot neighbor again. So, bonus.”

  Laurel stifled a laugh. “Gran, I don’t think hot-to-trot means what you think it means.”

  “Hey, I read things. I keep up. I know exactly what it means.”

  Then Gran gave her a pointed look, and Laurel sighed.

  “He does know I’m pregnant.”

  “So?”

  “And have we not learned anything from our prior attempts to fix me up?” Laurel said, pulling onto the exit ramp. “And by we, I mean you.”