"Uh-oh. I've been shopping with her before, when she was furnishing Jake's old ranch house. That means she's going to want to stop at every antique store in Marysville to check the prices." Emily chuckled. "I've never been pregnant with two other girlfriends before. This is fun."
Oh, it was definitely that, Lorna thought. When she'd discovered she would have Thursday free, she'd asked Emil's advice on baby furniture. One thing led to another after Emily ran into Elizabeth at the grocery store, and the three of them climbed into Emily's large Suburban and set out to shop 'til they dropped – or at least until after lunch, when they would have to get back so Lorna could go to work.
"Have you known Elizabeth long?"
"Not really," Emily said, waving over the salesman. "She married the cousin of my best friend from high school. From what Kate says, the whole family just loves her."
"She's very beautiful." Next to tall and elegant Mrs. Johnson, Lorna felt short, dumpy and tempted to cut her rambunctious curls.
"I think there's more to Elizabeth than we think," Emily whispered. "Anyone who would put her dog in a tuxedo and invite him to her wedding has to be pretty darn adventurous."
Lorna laughed. "You might be right, Em." She told the salesman she wanted the crib and gave him her credit card.
"You haven't seen her house, have you?"
"No." She'd been too tired to accept Jess's invitation to ride out there. She wondered if he would ask her again. "Not yet."
"You're going to love it. She takes really old furniture, the kind of stuff our mothers and grandmothers would have tossed out, and makes it look great."
Elizabeth stepped around a display of upholstery fabric and walked toward them. "You wouldn't believe how much a new rocking chair costs," she said, as she drew closer. "I like the old ones better."
"I just told Lorna about your house. And your dog. And how you're going to want to go to antique stores before we go home." Emily grinned. "Was I wrong?"
"No." Elizabeth smiled at both of them. "But lunch comes first – with dessert, because we're all eating for two now."
Lorna couldn't wait. "I like the way you think."
"Oh, we're going to have fun," Emily assured her. "I'm going to teach you two everything I know about babies."
The salesman returned with Lorna's bill. "Do you want it delivered, ma'am?"
"No," she said. "My – friend will pick it up." He gave her the information on where and when to get the crib, then gave her the receipt. "Thank you."
"Good luck, ma'am," he said. "Can I help anyone else?"
"I'll be back," Elizabeth promised. "I have more time than Lorna does."
"Let me give you your first piece of advice," Emily said. "Don't let the sheriff put the crib together by himself unless you're sure he's some kind of mechanical genius."
"I'm not sure he'll want to," she admitted. He hadn't spoken to her much in the past few days. Maybe he was giving her time to think about his proposal. Or maybe he'd changed his mind about the whole thing. "The last three times he's asked me to marry him I've said no."
"Three times?" Emily almost tripped over a velvet hassock, but Elizabeth caught her arm. "Don't you want to marry him?"
"Of course I do. But he doesn't love me."
Elizabeth sighed. "Oh, Lorna, I'm sorry. Sometimes these Texan men get strange ideas in their heads. Give it time. Maybe he cares for you more than you know."
"I don't think so. The first time he asked me he talked about doing his duty. The last time he talked about marriage, he said he wanted to 'get it over with'."
"Oh, Lorna," Emily moaned, but Lorna smiled and her friend burst into laughter. "That's the worst proposal I ever heard."
"Oh, dear," Elizabeth said. "No wonder you said no."
"You can get even with him, you know." The redhead smiled. "Ask him to put the crib together."
"Really?" It would also give her an excuse to call him. To see him.
"Absolutely," Emily promised. "It's a project guaranteed to drive him crazy."
"Or you could give him another chance," Elizabeth said. "These Texas men really are worth the wait."
* * *
Chapter 8
«^»
He'd caught on that Lorna was nicer to him when she was tired. She needed him to tell her to sit down and rest, or go to bed, things like that. So Jess waited until right before nine, the time the Coffee Pot closed, before stepping inside the café. No doubt she'd need him a lot by the end of the evening shift.
"Hey, Sheriff." Charlie sat on a stool, a cup of steaming coffee in front of him. "Kitchen's closed, but I'll bet you didn't come for food."
"No, I—"
"Lorna!" the cook bellowed. "You've got company! Your boyfriend's here!"
Jess thought he was a little old to be referred to as someone's boyfriend. "I can come back if this is a bad—"
"Hi, Jess." Lorna stepped out of the kitchen. "What are you doing here?"
"Looking for you." She wore one of Charlie's grease-stained white aprons, which covered her from her breasts to her knees. Her face was flushed and her hair, caught up in a lopsided ponytail, frizzed around her face. There was a dark smudge on her cheek and her hands were covered with yellow rubber gloves. She looked as if she'd been cleaning for hours, a thought that made him want to pick her up and haul her out of there. Jess took a deep breath, but he knew he sounded angry when he asked, "What the hell are you doing, Lorna?"
"Cleaning the kitchen."
"She volunteered," Charlie hurried to add. "I told her to go home but she wouldn't hear of it."
"The boy that usually comes in to do the dishes is sick and Charlie's knee is bothering him again," Lorna explained, coming closer to him. "I'm almost done. Do you want to know what I bought today?"
"I want to know when you're taking off that apron," he snapped, angry at himself for feeling so protective. This fatherhood business was tough, especially when the future mother insisted upon working too hard.
Lorna merely smiled. "I went shopping in Marysville with Emily Bennett and Elizabeth Johnson today."
Shopping? When she should have been resting? Jess bit back his frustration and managed a terse, "Really."
"And I'm going to need your help."
That was more like it, Jess thought. "Sure. With what?"
"If you'll drive me home in about twenty minutes, I'll explain it to you."
"All right." He paused. "Wait a minute. You walked to work?"
"Most of the time that's exactly what I do," she said. "The doctor said that walking is good exercise."
"Cleaning kitchens isn't." He glared at Charlie. "You should know better."
"She's hard to argue with," the cook said, and slid off his stool. "Go home, Lorna. The sheriff's right."
"But I'm not done with—"
"Go," he insisted. "I'll finish up."
"You're a lot nicer than Texas Tom," she said, removing the apron and the gloves. She handed them to her boss.
"So are rattlesnakes," the cook said. "Take your sheriff out of here and go home."
"Thanks." She retrieved her purse from under the counter and emptied her tips into an envelop. "See you in the morning, Charlie."
Jess hustled her out the front door before she could change her mind. He tucked her into the front seat of the car and watched to make sure she fastened her seat belt. He'd read in the pregnancy book that it was essential that expectant mothers never neglected to use seat belts. With that done, he went around to the driver's side and got in.
"You're off duty?" she asked.
"Yeah. I took the day shift." He did a U-turn in the middle of the empty street and headed toward Lorna's house. "I looked for you this morning, but Charlie told me you'd be working tonight."
"I haven't seen much of you lately."
That surprised him. "I had coffee at the café every morning. What did you buy in Marysville?"
"The crib." Her smile almost made him run the curb, which wouldn't have made the folks at the newspaper building h
appy. "Would you help me put it together?"
"Sure. No problem." He would move mountains, catch the sun and divert the course of the Rio Grande if she would smile at him again.
"Thanks. Emily said it can be tricky."
"Honey, I can manage," he assured her. There would be directions. He carried a tool kit in the trunk. "I'll do it tonight."
"Oh, I don't have it yet. It's still in Marysville. I told them you would pick it up. If you can't," she hurried to add, "they deliver. I just thought—"
"You'd save the fifty-dollar delivery fee. Good idea." He pulled up in front of her yard and waited for an invitation to come inside. He didn't expect one, but he couldn't help hoping she'd come to her senses and realize how much she needed a man in her life. And not just any man, either.
"I can show you a picture of it." She rummaged through her purse and pulled out a brochure. "It's the white one on the cover," she said, handing it to him. Jess switched on the inside light and examined a picture of a crib. It didn't look like anything special to him – a crib was a crib, wasn't it? – but the expression of joy on Lorna's face was worth pretending interest.
"Real nice," he said, trying to picture what his son or daughter would look like sleeping in that crib. No, he couldn't imagine having a baby. Not even after looking at those pictures in the books.
"Come on," she said, opening her door. "I'll show you the baby's room."
"Uh, okay." Cribs and nurseries were not exactly what he had in mind tonight, not with a bag of jewelry sitting in the glove compartment and another marriage proposal stuck in his throat. Still, an invitation was an invitation and he wasn't going to turn down a chance to be with her. She hopped out, not noticing that he leaned over and took something from the glove compartment and tucked it into his jacket pocket. Tonight was the night.
The baby's room was next to Lorna's, a corner room tucked in between Lorna's bedroom and the bathroom. He'd noticed the closed door before, but hadn't paid any attention to it
"It's pink," he said, staring at the walls, the curtains, the rug and even the ceiling light fixture, a ceramic nose hanging upside down. "Really pink."
"Aunt Carol went through a pink phase when she was in her fifties. There are some rooms I haven't had time to paint yet." Lorna chuckled. "It's really awful, isn't it?"
"The kid will have nightmares."
"I'll get it done before she's born."
"You shouldn't be on a ladder," he muttered. "Do you have paint?"
"Gallons of it. All white. I thought it would be easier if I painted all of the walls the same color."
"I have Saturday afternoon off," he said. "I'll come by and take care of it."
"I'm home at two."
"Then we'll do it then," he promised, wondering if he should talk about getting married now or wait until the day after tomorrow. Of course, he didn't intend to let her paint. Inhale those chemical fumes? Not in her condition. This pregnancy thing was complicated. He'd discovered there were dangers everywhere – in alcohol and tobacco, caffeine, hair dye, chemicals and even a cat's litter box. "You don't have a cat, do you?"
"No. I'm a dog person." She yawned with her hand oven her mouth. "Do you have a dog?"
"Not at the moment. I'm still living in the Good Times motel outside of town." Which he hoped would change soon. He'd sleep on the couch here if he had to, but he was damn determined to be there for Lorna when his son was born.
"That's a terrible-looking place."
"It's not that bad. I've looked at some places to rent, but what I really want to do is buy back my ranch from Bobby Calhoun. He bought it after the divorce."
"Come on," she said, turning to leave the room. "You can tell me all about it from a sitting position."
It was an odd little house, he realized. The small hallway led past the kitchen and into another room that blended into the living room at the front of the house.
"This should be the dining room," she said, "but I think I'll keep it empty until I decide if I need a dining room or not."
"Is there an upstairs?"
"There is, but it's not finished. Aunt Carol used it for storage." She sat on the couch and leaned back, but Jess didn't take the opposite chair. Instead he sat at the other end of the couch.
"Lie down," he said. "You can put your feet in my lap." The book had said that elevating the legs helped with – he couldn't remember what it helped with – but it was easy enough to do once she stretched out and relaxed.
"That's nice," she said. "But my shoes are dirty and I don't want to get your pants—"
"I'll take off your shoes." He untied the laces and slipped them off her white-stockinged feet. Then he tossed the shoes to the floor while Lorna wiggled her toes and sighed. Jess repositioned her feet so that her toes weren't touching his crotch. She didn't need to know that her touch elicited an immediate response from the lower part of his body.
"That feels so much better," she said, fixing a pillow behind her head. Lorna reached up and pulled the elastic from her ponytail and let her hair tumble down around her face before she closed her eyes. "Okay. Now you can tell me about your dog."
"I don't have a dog," he said.
"You used to. What kind?"
"A hairy black mutt named Bones. That's when I was a kid."
"Now tell me about your ranch," she said, her eyes still closed. Her toes wiggled and he absentmindedly took one foot in between his hands and began to rub.
"It's a small place," he said. "It's pretty close to the Dead Horse, where Bobby Calhoun lives. Do you know him?"
"Everyone knows him," she said. "A sweet guy but a little wild."
"Yeah, that's Calhoun. He bought my place when I had to sell out, but he said he'd be glad to lease it to me or sell it to me whenever I wanted." Jess took her other foot and began rubbing that, too. She had tiny little feet and delicate ankles.
"That was nice of him."
"He's got more money than he knows what to do with, but with Jake gone – Jake used to be his foreman before he got married – Bobby can't seem to stop doing wild things."
"He goes out with a lot of girls. They talk about it at the café. So when are you going to buy your ranch?"
"Soon," he said, realizing that he damn well better do it before he and Lorna got married or else it would be community property again. Another divorce and another For Sale sign wasn't much to look forward to. He'd have to call Calhoun tomorrow and hope that he was sober enough to talk business. He could live out at the ranch for now, and maybe even after the wedding. There was no guarantee Lorna would invite him to move in with her. He stifled a groan. Now that would sure give the town something to talk about.
But one thing at a time, and now it was time to get another marriage proposal over with. Maybe the rings would tip the odds in his favor this time. Jess took a deep breath.
"I figure I've been going about this all the wrong way," he told Lorna.
"Going about what?" she asked. Her eyes were closed and her toes were no longer moving. Exhaustion was obviously getting the better of her.
"This marriage business," he replied, resting his head against the back of the couch. He looked into the empty room that should be a dining room and wondered if he and Lorna would have friends over for dinner. He didn't know if she liked to cook or if she liked having company. He didn't know if she planned to work after the baby came or if she wanted to stay home. She'd lived in Dallas and worked in a fancy department store. Would she be happy living in Beauville? Would she want fancy clothes and fancy shoes and fancy furniture and shop for his son at Baby Gap?
Jess fought down his panic. He and Lorna needed to agree on things, that was all. She seemed like a reasonable woman. He sure as hell wouldn't mind sharing her bed and he liked the way she looked and the way she felt when he touched her and that scent of vanilla on her skin when she'd finished taking a bath. She hadn't yelled at him or called him names, hadn't complained that he never listened to her or that he worked too many hours.
&
nbsp; But none of that mattered, not when there was a baby on the way. Not when there was his baby on the way. Although, he had to admit that in the dark moments of the night, he wondered if this really was his baby. It could be anyone's, he worried. Even Texas Tom's. Lorna could have set him up, or she might even be convincing herself the child was his when it really wasn't. He didn't know much about her past, except for what she told him, and the fact that she'd had no arrests or traffic violations in the state of Texas.
Not too many people he knew could say that, except maybe eighty-nine-year-old Gert Knepper and he didn't even know if the woman knew how to drive.
Jess turned his head and gazed at the woman he had to marry. She was asleep, her breathing soft and even, her hands folded neatly on top of her rounded abdomen. No, the only thing she'd asked him to do was pick up a crib in Marysville. Everything else he'd offered. And then, when she'd refused, he'd done it anyway.
He had only himself to blame.
* * *
"Well, is it official yet?" Chelsea greeted her boss with a cup of coffee and a list of his messages.
"Is what official?"
"The engagement. Did you give her the ring?"
"No." He took the coffee and ignored the messages. "Thanks," he said, taking a sip. He'd overslept and hadn't had time to stop for his usual coffee at the café this morning.
Chelsea, her platinum hair pulled back from her face with rhinestone barrettes, followed him to his desk. "Why not?"
"She fell asleep."
"You've got to brush up on your romantic technique, boss."
"She's six months pregnant, Chelsea. The woman gets tired."
"Well, it's not like you have all the time in the world, you know." She dropped the pile of messages in front of him and he saw that her fingernails were silver with little cowboy boots painted on them. "Bobby Calhoun, Jake Johnson, Marysville sheriff's office, the courthouse, and the animal shelter."
"Any emergencies?"
"Not that I know of. Carter's log from last night didn't show anything but a car alarm going off on Main Street
and some kids fooling around in the parking lot behind the library."
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