by Linda Morris
The time wasn’t right. After the story was finished. She might be breaking every rule in the book, but the last year or so had showed her what desperation looked like. What it felt like. When they’d placed her baby in her arms in the hospital, red-faced and wrinkly, her priorities had undergone a massive and immediate shift. Right then, she’d known: There was very little she wouldn’t do to protect her son and give him the kind of life he deserved to have.
*
“Thank you for bringing Jack up with you when you come. You don’t know how I’ve missed him.” A little knot formed in Willow’s throat. Motherhood had installed a direct line from her heart to her child’s, and very little was needed to bring tears to her eyes where her boy was concerned.
“No problem, hon. I’d do anything for you.”
Willow shifted against the kitchen counter and glanced out the window, resting the phone against her cheek. “I hope you mean that, Kendra.”
“What does that mean?”
She’d spent the last few days pondering how to break this to Kendra, writing emails in her head that she never actually sent. She’d finally decided this was the kind of news that needed to be broken on the phone, since she couldn’t do it in person.
“When you come for a visit, you might have to sort of pretend Jack is yours for a while.”
“What?” Silence hummed on the line. “I know you didn’t just say that.”
She winced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do it. It just kind of happened. I told Paul you were bringing a baby with you, and I couldn’t tell him it was mine.”
“You’re actually serious.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “I am serious. Unfortunately.”
“Willow, of all of the ideas you’ve ever had, this has got to be the worst. This might be the worst idea anyone has ever had.”
Willow wasn’t used to hearing that tone from her friend. It hurt, but still. There was no going back. What was she supposed to do? Tell Paul, “Oops, I misspoke when I said my friend has a baby. I meant I have one. Whoopsie!”
No. The only way through this was forward.
“I admit I should have thought it through more.” She ignored Kendra’s snort. “But we can totally pull this off.”
Kendra sighed. “I can’t believe you told him it was my baby without even discussing it with me first. You didn’t even give me a choice.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Trust me, if I’d thought about it, I wouldn’t have said it. It sort of popped out.”
“Why didn’t you tell him you had a baby and leave him to guess that someone else was the father?”
“He’s not stupid. The timing would have been too suspicious. He would have guessed he might be the father, and I couldn’t take that chance yet. I was scared he was going to find out the truth and then I’d completely lose control of the situation. I was nervous. He’d already seen my breast pump, and I made up some story about it being a sewing machine.”
“He bought that?” Kendra voice rose.
“Yeah.”
“Huh.” Kendra paused. “You sure he’s not stupid? If he buys that, maybe you do have a chance of pulling it off.”
“He’s not stupid, Kendra. He’s a single guy who thinks I’m a single girl. He doesn’t expect me to be hauling a breast pump around. I doubt if he even knows what a breast pump looks like.” She should be happy her friend seemed to be softening on the idea of helping her out, but hearing Paul be called stupid rubbed her the wrong way.
Kendra sighed. “Oh, so now you’re defending him? You’re rushing to stick up for the guy who can’t be trusted with the knowledge he’s a father?”
“Kendra, I never said he can’t be trusted.”
“Then trust him! Tell him the truth.”
“It’s complicated. I don’t know him well enough. There’s too much at stake.”
“You knew him well enough to have sex with him five minutes after you met him, but you don’t know him well enough to let him help handle the consequences?”
Willow fell silent. She had nothing to say to that. It made her feel slutty and bad, and if she spoke, she’d probably cry.
After a minute of tension thrumming like a plucked guitar string, Kendra sighed again. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. I shouldn’t have said it. You know I don’t approve of you keeping this secret, though. It was one thing when you wanted to lie to Paul, but now you’ve dragged me into it. You’ve put me in the position of lying for you, and I hate that.”
“I know you do. I’m sincerely sorry for that. Like I said, I blurted it out. But Kendra—” She paused, unsure how much she wanted to tell her friend. Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound. “Paul is kind of … I don’t know. I can’t get a read on him. That night on the beach, it was like we shared a spark instantly. It sounds hokey, but I’ve never felt that before. I thought it was only something from books and movies. Katy Perry songs.”
“Willow, get to the point.” Her voice took on an edge.
“The point is, I was drawn to him. When we were together, he was so warm and full of life and energy. He made me happy, and I thought I made him happy, at least for a little while.”
“Of course you made him happy. He scored with a pretty girl on a beach. What’s not to be happy about?”
“It was more than that. I’m sure it was.” Wasn’t it? Or was she being naive? God, who knew. Trying to read Paul Dudley was an exercise in frustration. “Tony had messed up my head so bad, I didn’t want to get involved in a relationship. I thought it’d be a fun fling, you know? Then I got pregnant and couldn’t find him. Now, ever since I’ve arrived here, he’s been so, I don’t know. Remote. Guarded.”
“Tell him the truth. Give him a chance to open up to you.”
“That’s not all. The stadium is in bad shape, and the manager is griping about Paul to me every chance he gets. I can’t tell exactly what’s going on yet, but the team has real problems. The kind of problems Screwball is paying me to dig up and write about.”
“That’s business. That has nothing to do with your relationship with Paul, or the fact that he’s Jack’s father.”
“I may have to write some tough things about Paul and the Dudley family before I leave. How happy do you think he’s doing to be when I tell him the reporter that gave him a black eye in the press is also his baby mama, hmmm?”
“Willow, you’re making assumptions here. For all you know, Paul may want to be with you. You have to give him a chance to be a part of Jack’s life. As for the team—what, you’re taking the manager’s word for everything? There are two sides to every story. You haven’t given Paul a chance, so how do you know?”
“I’m not taking the manager’s word for anything. I verify everything a source tells me, or it doesn’t go to print. Besides, as far as giving Paul a chance? I know Paul would like to sleep with me again. I’m not a fool. I can’t screw this job up, Kendra. I’m a single mother. Screwball gave me a second chance. No third chances are coming. I have bills to pay and a kid to raise. Up until a few weeks ago, I was sure I’d be on my own for the rest of my life, raising a child with no help from his dad.” Her voice cracked. Damn, why did everything have to get so emotional where kids were involved? “Do you have any idea how terrifying it is to be single, unemployed and pregnant?”
Kendra exhaled hard. “No, I don’t. I know you’ve been through an awful time. But none of this was your fault, Willow, at least not in the beginning. Tony Raffi was a lying asshole. You didn’t know he was engaged. You had no idea a one-night stand on the beach was going to result in a baby. You used protection. It didn’t work. You tried to find Paul, but you couldn’t. The only thing I fault you for is not telling him now. You’ve got to tell him.”
“Just help me for now. Help me get through this story and back me up. After I’ve filed the story, I promise, I’ll tell him the truth. If he wants to be a part of Jack’s life, I’ll let him.”
Kendra sighed again. She was weakening. Willow could sense
it. “You promise you’re going to tell the truth when you’re done?”
“I promise.”
“Fine,” she grumbled in a tone that made it clear it was anything but. “But you owe me!”
Willow clutched the phone. “Thank you!” she said fervently. “You won’t regret it, hon. I promise.”
“That’s one promise you can’t keep. I already do regret it.”
*
“Paul, I appreciate what you’re saying. I know the stadium needs a renovation. You need to spend money to make money. I get it, but a loan of this size is going to need your father’s sign-off.” Sweat beaded on Dwayne Barker’s forehead. Was the bank’s AC out, or was he just that nervous about saying no? “I’m sorry, buddy. That’s all there is to it. My bank can’t loan you this kind of money on your say-so alone.”
“Fine. You haven’t heard the last of this, Dwayne. I’m not giving up.” Paul pushed back from Dwayne’s desk.
The chubby banker grinned. “I hadn’t figured I had, Paul. I know you’re determined as hell to turn the Thrashers around. But I need more than grit and determination to loan that kind of money. No bank wants to loan money to an organization with divided ownership.”
“We’re not divided. We’re having a discussion, that’s all.” Wishful thinking, but damned if he’d tell even Dwayne the full extent of the conflicts between him and his father. Some things were private, even from a guy you’d known since grade school.
A knowing smile split Dwayne’s plump face. “You win that discussion, Paul, come back and we’ll talk. I’d love to see Dudley Field like it used to be.”
“That’s where we differ, buddy. I want to see it better than ever.”
In the lobby of the First Bank of Plainview, he nodded at Cheryl, the teller he’d done business with for fifteen years. She was recently divorced and always had a smile and nod for him every time he came in. If he wanted to ask her out for dinner and maybe a little more, she’d probably be amenable.
Trouble was, he wasn’t interested in anyone but Willow, and Willow didn’t seem interested in him.
Check that. She might be interested, but she was fighting it, for some reason. He didn’t understand it.
The growl of his stomach reminded him he was overdue for lunch. He had no meetings on his schedule this afternoon, and he’d been running four times a week. Why not stop in at the Ladybird for a plate of fried chicken? He left his car where it was parked in a metered space, dropping in a few more quarters as he passed to be on the safe side, and walked down to the end of the street to the Ladybird.
The bell on the door announced his presence, and Oscar, the Ladybird’s owner, nodded a greeting as he entered. The lunch rush wasn’t quite over, and every table was filled, plus the counter. Paul had just leaned against the hostess stand to wait when he saw a familiar redhead alone at the last booth.
Perfect. She didn’t notice him approaching, she was so wrapped up in her cell phone. The half-eaten pickle next to a few crumbs on her plate indicated she’d already finished. He slid into the booth opposite her before she could even react.
“Hi.”
Her gaze flew up to his. “Hi.” A spark of something flared there for a minute, something that looked a lot like happiness. To see him, maybe?
Whatever it was, he’d take it. “Mind if I join you? There aren’t any empty booths.” Nothing like asking after he’d sat down, knowing she wouldn’t be rude enough to order him to get up.
She put her cell phone away and shrugged. The all-business reporter was back. “Sure.”
“What are you doing in town today?”
“I had to come into town for some things and thought I’d grab something to eat. I’m craving some kung pao chicken, but it turns out, this town doesn’t have a Chinese restaurant.” She idly stirred her cup of steeping hot tea.
He smiled. “We don’t have a lot of things, including jobs and a decent grocery store. Chinese takeout is pretty low on the list.”
“I’ve discovered.” She grinned, an impish smile that made his breath catch.
He loved those unguarded moments. He saw them so rarely from her.
“I’ll survive, I suppose. Anyway, what are you doing in town on a game day?”
“I had an appointment at the bank.”
Oscar came over, a smile creasing his rotund face. “Let me guess. Fried chicken plate with a side of green beans and a glass of sweet tea?”
“You got it.”
Oscar laughed. “Don’t know why I bother asking. Creature of habit,” he said with a shake of his head as he walked away.
Willow raised a brow. “Seriously? You always order the same thing?”
“I know what I like. I don’t see any reason to waste time with anything else.” Let her take that any way she wanted.
She gave him a knowing smirk, but she didn’t rise to the bait. “Something interesting going on at the bank?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. His fingertips brushed against her arms, and she didn’t pull back. His mouth curved slightly. “That’s progress.”
“What do you mean?”
“I touched you and you didn’t flinch or run away.”
Her mouth twisted, but she still didn’t flinch. “Very funny. Are you trying to change the subject about the bank?”
“Not at all. I have no intention of telling you about it, though.” A thought struck him. Would she go for it? It was worth a try. “Maybe you could change my mind, though.”
One silky brow rose. “That sounds sleazy. Do you intend to demand sexual favors in return for information?”
Seeing Willow’s soft mouth form the word “sexual” caused his groin to tighten, making him glad of the presence of the table. Her sunshine-yellow tank top seemed to be having a certain amount of trouble containing her healthy bust. It seemed even healthier than he remembered from that night on the beach in St. Pete. Not that he was complaining. “I don’t know. Would that work?”
“Definitely not.”
“That’s a pity.” He leaned back, letting that sink in for a second. “I do have a request, though. I’m going to participate in a special PR event for the Thrashers, and I was wondering if you’d like to join me.”
“Event?”
“Yeah. I’m participating in a mud run for charity. I do it every year, and people bid money for every quarter mile. It benefits a local food bank. If you did it too, we could have Tracy promote it. It would raise a lot of money, and you could feature it in your profile.”
“Yeah, I don’t know. I can cover it as part of the profile, but I don’t think I should get involved.” With you was the unspoken end of that sentence.
“I think this would give the story a lot more interest. It would draw attention to it. There’s a lot of curiosity about you in town, you know.”
“About me? That’s hard to believe.”
“Why? This is a small town, and we don’t get strangers hanging around that often. A lot of people want to get to know you.” He paused. He’d played it too safe. Time to say what he meant and hope she could deal with it. “I want to get to know you.”
She bit her lip. “Paul, I don’t—”
“Don’t. Don’t say no. Don’t make excuses. I’m not asking you for anything except a couple of hours of your time for charity. For now, anyway.” He wouldn’t make promises for the future that he had no intention of keeping.
“What happened to you having already half forgotten me?”
Interesting. She’d remembered the angry words he’d tossed off in the parking lot that day.
“I said that after you’d said some rather harsh things yourself, about considering what we did a mistake. I didn’t really mean it.” What the hell. Why not go for broke? “Actually, I’m finding you rather unforgettable.”
“Paul.” The word was a plea, but what for? Stop? Don’t stop? Who could tell, where women were concerned? He’d certainly shown himself a poor hand at reading h
er so far.
He certainly didn’t know what the hell Willow wanted, and he was tired of trying to figure it out. All these mixed messages and fits and starts were driving him nuts. Still, maybe a tactical approach was called for. “My sister, Sarah, will be in town for the event and participating as well. You’d have a chance to talk to her for your profile.”
“Really?” Her eyes sharpened and her face drew closer. Obviously he’d hit a nerve. He’d seen starving trout out on Raccoon Lake less eager to take the bait. “Will she talk to me?”
“Ah, I thought that would get your attention. You wound me, you know. I’m disappointed I couldn’t appeal to your sense of charity or my masculine appeal, but you’ll jump at the chance to dig up dirt about me.”
“Is that a confirmation there’s dirt to dig up?”
They paused when Oscar brought his food and sweet tea. The aroma of fried chicken and green beans wafted up from the table, whetting his hunger to a fine edge.
His hunger for food, that was. His hunger for the woman across from him couldn’t get much sharper than it already was.
“Nice try. If there’s any dirt to be dug, you’ll have to find it yourself.”
“I will, don’t you worry.” The gleam of challenge in her eye should have pissed him off, but it made his blood heat instead.
“Can I take that as a yes? You’ll do the mud run with me?”
“Depends. Do you think Sarah will talk to me?”
“You’ll have to ask her. She’s a big girl and makes her own decisions.” He picked up a drumstick and dug in, hot grease and the flavor of the savory, salty coating exploding on his tongue. Hot damn. It was almost enough to distract him from that tank top Willow was wearing.
Almost.
“You have no influence on those decisions? You won’t tell her not to talk?” She looked skeptical.
“I have only the influence of an older brother who loves her, so basically, none at all.”