by Kay Lyons
Being made a priority was great, but the weight on her shoulders pressed heavier than ever. She hated feeling so helpless, so dependent.
Garret ran a hand over his short hair. “Look, Darcy, I didn’t bother calling the motels about vacancies. Right now, even if someone did check out and attempt to leave town, I wouldn’t want to take you out on the roads. It’s too dangerous, and you can’t risk another scare after what you went through last night.”
She felt like such a pain, but since it was the smart thing to do, she forced herself to nod. Waiting out the storm here might be best, but it didn’t make her conscience rest any easier.
“Are you okay with spending another night here?”
“If you don’t mind, I suppose that’s fine.” She hated imposing on Garret this way, hated feeling as if her life was racing out of control and she couldn’t stop the skid. At the same time, she was grateful for Garret’s gentlemanly behavior and the fact that she wasn’t stuck in some grimy hotel room she couldn’t afford. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your help, Garret. I keep saying it, but it’s true. I don’t know what I would have done without you. And I’m happy to pitch in while I’m here. It’s the least I can do.”
He gave her a smiling yet disapproving look and heat bloomed in her face. Scruffy had never looked so sexy on a guy.
“Yeah, about that. You’re supposed to be resting, not cleaning up the dishes.” Garret tilted his head to one side and crossed his arms over his chest. The move delineated the muscles beneath his long-sleeved T-shirt. “Didn’t I tell you to leave those?”
“You cooked. It was only fair.”
Garret had been gorgeous in his dark suit and overcoat last night, but this morning he looked even more so in worn running pants and a lightweight U of T shirt that had seen better days. Both molded his body, and his size gave her butterflies. No, definitely not a hardship.
“Quit worrying about imposing. You just follow the doctor’s orders about getting some rest. Take it easy, and pretend you’re in a messy hotel.”
He said that with a handsome grin, one that emphasized the deep creases bracketing his mouth. He worked hard, but he laughed hard, too. She liked that. And the way his hair stuck up at odd angles. Too cute. Just because she was pregnant didn’t mean she was blind.
“This place is a far cry from messy. It’s hard to believe two bachelors live here.”
“Yeah, well, you can thank Ethan for that. He has a neat streak a mile wide. Just make yourself at home. When the snow lets up, we’ll get you where you want to be.”
Such a gentleman. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now I’m going to go grab a shower. While I do that, why don’t you go call your mother?” Garret walked to the counter and jotted something down on a notepad beside the phone. “Maybe you’ll feel better if you hear her voice. Here’s the number to give her.”
It was a sweet thing to say. And for a guy who obviously loved his family and was obviously loved by them, she supposed that would be the case, but her mom? They really weren’t that close. Although, to be fair, she did say she’d help watch the baby. Darcy accepted the slip of paper and smiled. “Thanks.”
As she watched him leave the kitchen Garret seemed like true hero material. The manners, the consideration. His unbelievable good looks—a regular Raoul Bova look-alike. What more could a girl ask? If all Garret’s brothers resembled him…Da—
Shaking her head, she remembered her vow to clean up her language. She so did not want her baby sounding like a guest on Jerry Springer. Her life had had more than its share of swear-perfect moments, but it was time to change; otherwise, her baby’s first word would be of the four-letter variety.
Darcy left the kitchen and made her way to Garret’s bedroom to the phone, smiling at the sound of Garret whistling farther down the hall. Door shut, her footsteps dragged as she made her way over to the bed. Come on, Mom, be home. Be there for me.
Seconds later she waited and counted the rings. Two. Three. Four. Pick up! A click sounded, then her mother’s recorded message played. Where was she? Surely her mother wasn’t off with another new guy? Darcy supported the idea of her mom finding true love and living happily ever after. But that was unlikely to happen with the losers her mother seemed to gravitate to.
The beep sounded. “Hi, Mom, it’s me. Are you there? Pick up, it’s important.” She twisted the phone cord around her finger. “I’m still in Tennessee. My car has to be towed and repaired, and—The hospital released me last night, but I’m stuck in the snowstorm.”
Out of nowhere, hope soared. Was her mom on her way here to check on her? Had her mom finally put Darcy ahead of her latest guy? Please, just once let me come first. “Call me as soon as you get my messages, okay? Call me.” She left the number and murmured goodbye, hating the tears that thickened her voice toward the end.
She couldn’t help it though. Everyone deserved at least one grand gesture in their life. Deserved to have someone, a loved one, do something big, something meaningful, that showed them how much they were loved. Something that declared loud and clear, “Screw the world, you’re more important!”
Lying back on the bed, she squirmed until she was comfortable, and sighed, tired even though she woke up only a little while ago. “I’ll do anything for you, Jordan. I’ll give you so many grand gestures you won’t ever doubt you’re loved,” she whispered, rubbing her stomach. “I just want someone to do the same for me.”
Chapter 9
TOBY WIPED the sweat from his forehead and stared at Jocelyn. He had no business being here. People would talk if they found out, speculate about what happened between him and his best friend’s almost-fiancée during these hours alone.
“Something wrong?”
Pulled from his thoughts, he searched her upturned face for any sign of the teenage witch she’d been. Surprisingly, he didn’t see a trace of the girl who’d received a red BMW for her sweet sixteen. “Is it straight?”
Jocelyn took a few steps back and eyed the section of gallery wall they’d been working on. “Tilt it to the right just a smidge.”
Who knew it took this much effort to decorate a wall? They’d finished painting the one wall, assembled some shelving units, then started the tedious process of unpacking, displaying and hanging—and rehanging—the art. Sighing, he did as ordered.
“Wait. Back the other way. Perfect!” She gave him a million-dollar smile, and he thought back to middle school when her mouth had been full of braces. He’d had them at the time, too, and more than once he’d dreamed of locking metal with her.
She tucked her hair behind her shell-shaped ear, drawing his attention to the one-carat diamond studs in her lobes. Garret hadn’t blinked at the price of those. Over the past couple of years his buddy had dragged Toby into many jewelry stores to help pick something out for Jocelyn. Fact was, Toby had been the one to choose these earrings for her. They’d reminded him of her when he’d spied them—elegant and tasteful. Classy.
The same was true with the engagement ring Garret had purchased but had yet to give her. Garret had bought the thing, but Toby had been the one who’d selected it after shaking his head at the ugly monstrosity Garret had favored. Didn’t Garret know Jocelyn’s tastes at all?
“Are you going to stay up there all day?”
He didn’t move. “Depends. You got anything else you want done?”
Her cheeks blushed prettily when she looked at her watch and gasped. “Oh, it’s late! Where did the time go?” She gaped up at him. “Tobias, I’m so sorry. I had no idea the day had flown by. I was just so happy to be getting things done.”
He’d noticed. That was why he’d stayed. Because she’d given him so many smiles and glances from beneath her long lashes. Because doing these tasks had made her happy and he’d liked seeing her happy. Maybe a little too much. “I’m glad to have helped.”
“Well, I’m sorry to have kept you so long. With this storm it’s going to take you forever and a day to get h
ome.” She smoothed a hand over her hair, drawing attention to the clasp she’d stuck back in.
He’d wanted to remove the thing all day, make her look the way she had that morning. She’d been more approachable then, whereas now she looked almost uncomfortable in her own skin. A little girl playing dress-up; her hair fixed—if messier than normal—lipstick in place. A smudge on the pantsuit she’d worn to muck around the gallery. Who worked in pantsuits, and designer ones at that?
“Is something wrong? You’re frowning.”
Caught unaware, he shook his head. “Don’t you own any sweats?”
“That’s an odd question. Why do you ask?”
It was none of his business what she wore—or who she dated. “Never mind.” He moved down the ladder and shoved aside the thoughts of Garret and Jocelyn together. He had no right to think of her that way.
“Sweats would be more comfortable, but Daddy hates them. Says women should look like women, not sports jocks.”
“You’d still look like a woman, trust me.” He said the words deliberately, knew it would send her into a tizzy of ums and ohs and fussing hands. She smoothed her fingers over her hair to capture all the baby-fine strands that had escaped, tugged at her jacket and pulled it down over her small breasts and raised her eyebrows high, her smooth forehead wrinkling.
“He says it’s one of the rules of business, to always be presentable. I never know who might walk through the door whether here or at home. He insists Mother and I look our best at all times. Guess old habits don’t die.”
“You’re presentable.” Toby stepped off the ladder and walked to where she stood. “Your father’s rules aren’t the be-all and end-all, Jocelyn.” He lifted his hand and tortured himself by grasping a flyaway tendril between his thumb and forefinger and tucking it behind her ear. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Some men don’t mind a woman looking a little ruffled.”
“Garret—”
She stopped whatever it was she’d been about to say.
But the spell was broken. At the mention of his best friend, he berated himself for playing with fire. The diamond studs winked at him beneath the gallery lights, the reminder that she was out of his league transmitted loud and clear.
“I’d better go.” He meant to step away. But the allure of Jocelyn—all striking blue eyes and full lips that he’d bet his hard-earned money had no collagen assistance—held him in place. Sophistication rolled off her from her pointy, spiky-heeled boots to her sculpted nose—another present from Daddy because, heaven forbid, her nose hadn’t been perfect the way it was.
He’d like to see her in sweats. And drunk, just once. She’d be a silly drunk.
“You’re staring again. Are you sure nothing is wrong?”
Something was wrong, all right. Having these powerful feelings for Jocelyn—for his best friend’s almost-fiancée—was more than wrong. He’d best get used to wanting but never getting because the situation wasn’t going to change. Jocelyn would never leave Garret, and eventually Garret would marry her. “Positive.” Toby glanced at his watch. “I need to get out of here. And you should think about doing the same.”
“Of course. Thank you again.”
Needing air, Toby headed for the door. If he were a gentleman he’d wait for her. He’d lock up and clean the snow from her car. He’d drive behind her to ensure she arrived home safely. But he wasn’t a gentleman. He was a man grasping for a shred of decency so he didn’t give in to the urge to do all kinds of wicked and sinful things with this woman.
“Tobias, wait.”
Hand on the door, he gritted his teeth and paused.
“I meant what I said earlier. About everything that happened years ago,” she said in a rush. “I’d like us to be friends. For Garret’s sake if nothing else.”
He couldn’t stop the smirk forming on his lips. For Garret’s sake. “Okay. Sure, why not.”
“Really?”
Toby pulled the door open, resigned. “Yeah.”
THAT EVENING Darcy lifted her finger to her nape and smoothed lavender oil on her pulse point, inhaling deeply and appreciating how the scent instantly soothed her.
“Are you feeling okay?”
Garret’s voice startled her. After a day spent alternately working, helping her with the meals, he’d disappeared into his thoughts. He’d been sitting here looking at the movie playing on the plasma screen yet he didn’t appear to be actually watching it. Something was obviously on his mind, but the remote expression on his face kept her from asking. “I’m fine. What about you?”
He flashed her a fake I’m-okay, you’re-okay smile. “Sorry, I’ve been distracted.”
“Headache?”
“Yeah. I get them sometimes.”
“Want to talk about whatever’s stressing you?” Darcy twisted the lid on the tiny bottle of expensive oil before returning it to the case and pulling out another. She repeated the process, tipping the bottle until a drop of oil sparkled on her finger, rubbing it on her neck and inhaling the fragrance.
“There’s a lot on my plate right now.”
She looked at him, taking in the little lines of strain around his eyes and mouth. Poor guy really was hurting. He needed a good massage or a long vacation. Better yet, both. “Do you work every weekend? Ever take any time off?”
A shudder blanked his features, as if he’d heard the question countless times before. “Things are more hectic than usual. The hospital was recently purchased by a bigger one and there is a lot of red tape to get through.” He nodded toward her hands. “What is that stuff? I thought you smelled different. Is that why?”
She pretended outrage. “Are you saying I smell?” Her ploy worked because his expression turned teasing.
“That last one smelled like Christmas so it’s a good smell.”
Darcy held the latest bottle out for his perusal. “It’s an essential oil. I use them in my massage therapy sessions.”
Garret leaned forward a little and sniffed. “Cypress?”
“Very good.”
“I can’t take credit. My mother and grandmother really get into decorating the house at Christmas. They always have fresh greenery and cinnamon, stuff like that.”
“Sounds nice.”
“It is. What about you? What was your house like?”
“Oh, nothing spectacular. My mom was so afraid of setting the house on fire that we had a fake tree. One of the small ones that could be scrunched up and put into storage.”
“Not us. Real trees, all the way.”
“Trees? More than one?”
Garret got up and moved to sit beside her. He plucked the case of oils from her lap, held it up to his nose and sniffed cautiously.
“Yeah. Sometimes one in every room, sometimes more. They always had a theme, so needless to say my mother’s ornament collection is massive. Now it fills the attic.”
“I’ll bet they’re beautiful.”
More than anything else, for some reason the number and type of Christmas trees articulated their vastly different upbringings. What would growing up in that house have been like?
“What’s this?”
“Huh?” Her gaze was drawn to his lips when he smiled.
“Where did you go?”
Heat crept into her face. “Baby fog,” she said by way of an excuse. “My mind slips into la-la land a lot. What did you say?”
“What’s this one?”
The bottle looked fragile in his big hand. “That’s a blend of several of the oils. It helps with anxiety and depression.”
“Wasn’t this the one you used?”
She couldn’t hold his gaze. “I’m pregnant, the father is a no-good, lying bas—louse. And I’m stuck in a snowstorm because I wrecked the first new car I was ever able to buy. Depressed? Maybe just a little.”
“Things will get better, Darcy. Nick will have your car fixed up good as new.”
“Maybe.”
“Not maybe. You’ll be good to go in no time.”
&nbs
p; Yeah, but would she still have a place to go to?
“Come on, talk to me. What are you thinking about?”
She didn’t want to unload her burdens on him, didn’t want him to know all the nasty details of her life she was embarrassed about and couldn’t change.
“If you tell me to butt out, I will. But I’m not going to stop asking until you do.”
She liked persistence. And the timbre of his voice sent a shiver down her spine. But how silly was that? Seven and a half months pregnant and she felt shivers?
Darcy inhaled, sighed. Maybe talking would help. It would distract her from her fascination with her host if nothing else. “My mom had me when she was seventeen. I never knew my dad. He and my mom broke up before I was born. Life was hard for her. And despite always, always saying I’d never wind up like my mother, here I am. I’ve followed in her footsteps by having a baby alone.” She tried to smile, but couldn’t. “I mean, sure, I’m older than she was and I have career skills. But sometimes I’m not sure I’m ready to be a mother. Would the baby be better off with someone else? You know…adopted. But then I feel it move and I know I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I gave it up.”
Garret’s hand touched her shoulder. “Do you have to do this alone? It takes two to make a baby.”
“Stephen wants nothing to do with it. Us.”
“That’s his loss, Darcy. As to being a mom, I’d say every woman has doubts. Wonders if she’s doing a good job.”
“The books say it’s normal but…”
“But?”
“But I’ve always wanted too much. Wanted way too much.”
“How so?”
She stared at the big screen and saw her plans for her life disintegrating. “When I had a baby I wanted to be married to the man I’d spend the rest of my life with, someone who’d share the good and the bad. And now, with everything that’s gone on, I just don’t know how that can happen.” She paused. “I see these elderly couples holding hands and talking, and I wonder what have they done—what secrets do they know—to make it so many years together. I don’t know anything about that kind of staying power, so how could I have it?”