Delivering History (The Freehope Series Book 4)

by Jenni M. Rose

  “I splurged,” she argued, trying to calculate in her head how much she’d spent so far. It had to be close to forty thousand dollars. That alone should have made her question the insurance company, but she hadn’t wanted to look that gift horse in the mouth. “I bought the commercial double oven. Carrara marble countertops.”

  “You skimped on the cabinets,” he accused.

  “There was a mix-up…” With a laughing gasp, she slapped his arm. “You switched my cabinets!”

  “You needed the good ones, babe,” he said simply, laying his lips on hers. “You deserve the best of everything and that’s what I’m going to get you.”

  She shook her head, partly at his high-handedness, partly at his underhandedness, and partly at her own naiveté.

  “Vinyl records, hotshot. Stackable rings.”

  “I can get you rings,” he said, his lips quirking up at the sides. “Big ones that come in little powder-blue boxes.”

  “You better not step one foot into a Tiffany’s store, Dylan,” she argued.

  “Okay. Instead, I’ll just make sure you get the best oven money can buy and the most beautiful hardwood floors. I’m not above wooing you through a remodel.”

  “You can’t buy my love,” she told him.

  The words came out of her mouth, but she wasn’t sure that was exactly true. She didn’t love him because of the things he bought, but the fact that he’d done something that meant so much to her, struck a definite chord in her heart.

  Unruffled, Dylan chuckled. “I don’t need to buy your love. I earn that by giving you hot sex and foot rubs.”

  He wasn’t wrong there either.

  Neither of them mentioned the L-word that floated around them, noticeable but unobtrusive.

  “I’m sorry, all I heard was hot sex,” she said, leading him back into the baby-shower fray as they reached the gate to Andy’s yard. “Did you say something else?”

  As if she weighed nothing he scooped her up, her arms winding around his neck, and carried her into the backyard.

  “You’re always distracted by the hot sex,” he chided. “It’s like you’re never satisfied.” His laughing eyes met her. “I guess I’ll just have to work a little harder tonight.”

  Alex had no words, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth at the thought of anything hotter than what they shared in bed. The memories alone were enough to curl her toes.

  “Time to go play dutiful sister,” he said, delivering her to a seat next to Beth, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “I’ll make sure to come up with a few new ways to make you scream tonight, babe.” He murmured a suggestion that had her staring into the eyes of Ms. Ross, the meanest woman in town, and blushing from the roots of her hair, her face hot.

  As if she knew, Ms. Ross looked at Dylan and back to Alex, sending her a sassy wink.

  14

  People underestimated what heat felt like when you were pregnant, Alex realized quickly.

  Fourth of July weekend was what New Englanders called a scorcha, the temps rising to one hundred degrees and the humidity enough to make her shoulders slump with the weight of it. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she was carrying around a dizzying amount of extra weight, HalloBaby packing on mere ounces while Alex was roughly the size of a double wide.

  Still, she dipped her toes in the ocean, unashamed to be wearing her favorite bikini on the beach. No one else seemed to be bothered by her either, everyone far too busy enjoying each other and their festivities.

  She and Dylan had driven down to the Cape for the long weekend, spending a few days with his parents at their vacation…house. She hesitated to even think the word, the formidable building more a mansion than anything she’d ever seen. She pretended not to notice, as if she walked into big expensive homes all the time, and just tried to enjoy the weekend.

  They’d already spent one night in the house alone and he’d, of course, managed to make it feel cozy, lighting string lights on the back deck and snuggling with her on a lounger. His parents were slated to arrive by lunchtime, and Dylan had already warned her that they’d probably be sitting for more formal dinners when they were there. Dylan had ordered groceries ahead of time—she snorted to herself at the thought, but she’d brought some of her own too. She wanted to make breakfast for them and use their kitchen. She wanted to make sure she had enough supplies to make cucumber sandwiches whenever she felt the need to devour one, and mini marshmallows, because they were her new obsession. She cracked open the bag and let them get a little stale and suddenly it was like snacking on the good part of her favorite childhood cereal.

  Dylan hadn’t said a word, not the least bit surprised that she’d brought her own groceries, even though he’d told her she didn’t need to.

  She threw a glance over her shoulder where he seemingly slept on a chair in the sand. His unassuming black swim trunks did nothing to make him blend in, people doing a double take when they walked by.

  Even in nothing but a bathing suit, he looked expensive. Everything from his haircut to his sunglasses just reeked of money and good taste. His skin was bronzing nicely under the hot sun while she was wilting.

  She waded farther into the water, seeking relief. The best part of New England beaches was that the water temperatures could always be counted on to be cold. Whether it be the dead of January or July, the ocean water was cold. Thankfully, on a hot July day, it was just enough to cool her off without making her cold. She went in as far as the middle of her belly, HalloBaby squirming at the change in temperature.

  “Oh, you like that, don’t you?” she murmured, rubbing her hands around her bump. “Feels good to me too, munchkin.”

  The last time she’d been to the beach had been two years before when Beth and Logan got married. She smiled to herself, still palming her belly, thinking about how life can change so quickly. Two years could pass in the blink of an eye, but when you open your eyes, everything looked different. Everything was different.

  Andy and Owen had their own place.

  Beth and Logan had moved back to town and gotten their own place.

  She was pregnant, rebuilding her kitchen while she tried to build a business.

  She looked to Dylan again, who was sitting up and watching her. She could feel his gaze slide along her skin, despite the sunglasses he wore. He was the biggest change in her life during her two-year blink.

  Sure, she was pregnant but once the baby was born, that would all go away. She’d just go back to being boring old Alex.

  But Dylan, with any luck, would still be there.

  “Deep thoughts, babe?”

  The man in question snuck up behind her and slid his arms around what was left of her waist and rested his hands on her belly.

  She shrugged, still just enjoying the turn her life had taken. “I was thinking how fast life changes. How quickly everything that’s so familiar morphs into something else.”

  “Definitely deep thoughts,” he confirmed. “What brought this on?”

  “The last time I was at the beach was when Beth and Logan got married two years ago. A lot has changed since then. With them. With me. With all of us.”

  “Two years is a long time,” he said. “Hell, things change from minute to minute.”

  “I know. But two years is also really quick. I feel like it was just a few months ago. That must mean I’m old, when time flies by like that.” She sent him a smile and leaned into his chest as the cool water lapped at them. “I remember when I was a kid, every school year was an absolute eternity. It just dragged on and dragged on, for-frickin-ever.”

  “I know what you mean,” he said, a chuckle rumbling through his chest against the hot skin of her back.

  “Now that I’m older, it just breezes by. Like, oh, Jenna just learned to walk, and now she’s driving and is about to start a summer internship, and looks at grown ass men like they’re a snack—”

  “She’s what?”

  “And here I am, watching them all do their thing and I’m super hap
py about it, don’t get me wrong, and I love what I do. My work is my absolute favorite. I never feel as comfortable as I do when I’m baking. If I have a shit day, I just need some flour between my fingers and I feel like things will be okay.”

  “But?” He pulled her hair over her shoulder, brushing it aside, so he could kiss her skin.

  “No buts,” she told him, then quickly corrected herself, “I don’t think. Just that it all goes by so fast. If I wasn’t as big as a house, I’d want to stop time and just enjoy these moments more, because I worry that they’ll go by and I’ll miss them, and I won’t know I missed them until they’re gone.”

  “You’re trying to say we need to slow down and enjoy life more,” Dylan surmised. “I’d say that’s a pretty common feeling. Probably, especially people about to deliver babies, watching their families grow.” He spoke quickly, before she could correct him. “Even if it’s extended family, it’s still family, and especially your family, babe, because you’re all so close. I’d say we’re doing a pretty good job slowing down this weekend, don’t you?”

  She did, but it was more than a weekend she was thinking about. It was months and years of taking moments for granted. Times when Spencer showed up to fix something, even when she didn’t ask him to, or when Jenna stopped by every Wednesday night, without fail. Times like Beth stopping by with a movie when Logan was at school for the night or Andy swinging in to talk.

  Alex felt a sting in the corners of her eyes and blinked.

  “I’m crying,” she whispered, somewhere between dumbfounded and annoyed. “Why am I crying again?”

  “Have I told you how beautiful you look today?” Dylan whispered, pressing his lips to her shoulder again before turning her in his arms.

  “Don’t change the subject. I’m crying again!” She swiped angrily at her cheeks, but more sentimental tears tracked down her face. “This is so stupid.”

  He held her cheeks in his hands and wiped her cheeks with his thumbs, smiling gently down at her while she glared at him with wet eyes.

  “Have I told you how much I love you, Lexi Walker?”

  Her heart stuttered in her chest and her stupid tears continued their rapid exodus from her eyeballs.

  “Don’t tell me you love me when I’m crying my eyes out about ridiculous crap on the beach,” she sobbed, embarrassed. “That’s not going to make me stop. It just made it worse.”

  She was seriously crying now, big heaving sobs into his chest, as she mentally attempted to figure out if it was possible to swim away, never to be seen again, her embarrassment at an all-time high.

  Dylan wrapped his arms around her shoulders, holding her close, and whispered in her ears.

  “But I do love you, Lex. Great, big, forever kind of love, you know? The kind where you talk about not wanting to miss big moments in your life, and I want to make sure I’m there for them too. The kind where you want to bake out all your worries, and all I want to do is sit across the kitchen counter from you and watch you do it. I love you big, baby, and you have to know I’m not going anywhere. I plan on making sure you and I have lots of moments we slow down for and savor together.”

  “You can’t love me,” she cried, her insides nothing more than softened butter, squishy and smooth. His words absolutely melted her and she loved every second of it. Hell, she wanted to return the sentiment, but her emotions had other plans. Instead, they were going to make her keep crying, not letting her get any coherent words in edgewise.

  “I can,” he said gently, unruffled. “And now, I think it’s time I take you inside to get some rest. It’s too hot out here for you and the peanut.”

  The baby was roughly the size of a Smart car, not a peanut, but she didn’t argue.

  They slowly made their way out of the water and collected their things. After a minute or two, the worst of the tears subsided and Alex felt a little better, if not very stupid. Dylan grabbed her hand and led her back up the little private walkway to the house.

  He dumped their things at the backdoor and they both headed straight for Dylan’s bedroom. Alex wasted no time, stripping out of her damp bathing suit and climbing into the cool bed, the air conditioner working overtime on such a hot day, and she thanked the gods and all the jellybeans in the world for it.

  Dylan disappeared into the big walk-in closet, presumably to change.

  “I love you, too, you know,” she called, hoping her voice carried to him. “I didn’t mean to be a hot mess. It’s kind of my perpetual state right now, which is really annoying most of the time. I’ve cried more in the last seven months than I have in my entire adult life.”

  He casually popped out of the closet, naked as the day he was born, and climbed into the bed facing her.

  “I don’t mind tears, Lex. They don’t bother me.”

  “They bother me,” she countered. “And I love you, too, hotshot. Great big, forever kind of love and it’s the scariest and most exciting thing I’ve ever felt.” She looked down at her belly which took up quite a bit of space between them. “And that’s saying something, considering my constant companion.”

  “Don’t let it be scary,” he whispered, pulling her as close as he could, her bump against his hard stomach, her legs twining with his. “Exciting and fun I’ll take, but I don’t want you scared. Not of me. Not of us. I’m going to take care of you, Lexi. For as long as you let me, I’m going to be it for you. Everything you need.”

  Well, damn, she thought, those hot tears building again. How did she respond to that declaration?

  “Okay,” she whispered, accepting that his words were exactly what she wanted to hear from him.

  ”Now, get some sleep.” He kissed her forehead. “It was too hot out there for you two today. You look exhausted.” At her droll look, he smiled. “Beautifully exhausted,” he corrected.

  When Dylan’s parents arrived, they came with staff, which blew Alex’s mind. There were literally people that hung around, relatively unobtrusively, but still, they hovered. It finally dawned on her how normal Dylan acted when he had every reason not to. He could have had staff, like his parents. Hell, he could probably use some people around to cook or clean for him.

  Well, he did have a cleaning person, but not someone there to pick up his dirty socks or make sure his bed was made. He had a nice woman named Helena who came in twice a week to tidy up and clean the bathrooms. Alex could respect that. She’d even go so far as to say she was envious of the luxury, the idea that he could have someone at his beck and call twenty-four-seven never occurring to her.

  Lifestyles of the rich and famous wasn’t exactly her forte, but there was one thing that the James’s staff hated, and that was having their jobs stolen.

  As Alex slid her cherry-berry pie into the oven, she noted the chef, an older man named Louis, eyeing her nervously from across the room.

  “Does it freak you out that bad?” she asked, holding in a laugh.

  “I’m just not used to sharing the kitchen, ma’am,” he said politely. He had hair that had gone fully gray, his face wrinkled enough that she’d put him at least in his mid-sixties.

  “Please, don’t call me ma’am. I’m just like you, you know. Just a regular girl with a regular job. I didn’t know there were going to be people here to cook and clean. I can do that stuff myself.” She turned to the counter and started rolling out another ball of dough. “You make pie?”

  “Not usually, no, ma’am.”

  “Alex is fine. Just Alex.” She thought for one second and added, “Or Lexi. How long have you worked for the James family?”

  “For nearly forty years, ma— Miss Lexi.”

  She nodded. Miss Lexi was far better than ma’am, any day of the week.

  “Forty years,” she whistled. “You must have some stories to tell. Behind-the-scenes kind of stuff.”

  His eyes widened. “I…I…”

  “He has to sign a yearly nondisclosure agreement,” Dylan informed her, as he slid into a seat on the other side of the continent-sized
island, and grabbed an apple out of the fruit bowl. “But, yes, I’d guess that Louis is full of stories. Like the time he caught Brady and I on the roof of my parent’s house smoking cigars.”

  “What Mr. James meant to say was, the time I caught he and Brady Charles on the roof of his parent’s house, both sick as dogs, after smoking cigars.”

  Dylan gave an agreeing nod. “That’s definitely more accurate.”

  Alex listened to their back and forth, a warm exchange between two people who had a long history and what seemed like great respect for each other.

  It was one of the things she loved about Dylan. His respect was earned through behavior and actions, not money or status. It was a down-to-earth approach to life that she imagined people in his social circle didn’t always adhere to.

  Dylan was bigger than that.

  Alex rolled out another pie crust, barely looking at it as she pinched the edges in the pan. She opened the refrigerator, still listening to their conversation as she grabbed an armful of ingredients. Limes, ginger, heavy cream, butter, and eggs all came out, Dylan appearing behind her to pluck each item out of her hands and then place them on the kitchen counter.

  Louis watched closely as she began putting her creation together, no recipe needed.

  “What do you remember being Dylan’s favorite foods?” she asked, happy to hear just about anything about Dylan’s childhood.

  “Plain chicken and peas,” the man said without hesitation. “I think he ate plain chicken and peas for every meal until he was a teenager. Then he branched out and dared to try steak, much to everyone’s relief.”

  She smirked, trying to imagine Dylan as a picky eater, stubbornly sitting in his fancy house and refusing to eat his vegetables.

  “You can laugh,” Dylan invited without qualm. “Not everyone was born with a chef’s palate.”

  Alex outright laughed at his statement. “You know I became a pastry chef because I don’t like real food, right? I spent years trying to figure out how to make it acceptable to eat sugar at every meal, and this was the only thing that made sense. Now I can make pie every day and no one bats an eye. I can bake a batch of cupcakes and no one wonders what I’m going to do with them once I’m done because it’s my job. I’ve made it socially acceptable to eat sweets as meals because I don’t like real food.”