by Annie Rains
But she did have two good reasons not to say no. First, saying no implied that she wasn’t comfortable with Miles. That there was still sexual attraction between them. That maybe she still harbored feelings for the man who had once broken her heart. He didn’t just break one tiny little piece. He’d shattered it with all the gentleness of a sledgehammer.
Secondly, if she didn’t say yes, she’d be carrying her mom’s debt into the New Year, which she’d promised herself, no matter what, she wouldn’t do. She needed to move on from the heavy weight of it. Somehow, staying in her mother’s debt kept her stuck in her grief as well. She couldn’t fully move on until the last bill was paid.
Lucy reached for her phone, took a breath, and started to call Miles. She hesitated. Just the thought of holding a conversation with him made her anxious.
This is silly. They’d dated a million years ago. They were friends now. Just friends. Even so, instead of calling, she tapped out a text.
Lucy: I’ve decided to charge $850 for rent through the end of the year.
Lucy: Not sure if you’re interested.
The rent Lucy was asking was fair, in her opinion. The garage apartment was complete with an open kitchen, living area, bedroom, and a bathroom. Lucy had lived there after high school and when she’d come back and forth during college.
The dots on her screen started bouncing.
She held her breath, part of her hoping that Miles wasn’t interested. The other part needed him to say yes.
Miles: That sounds good. I’ll take it.
Lucy swallowed. Her mouth was suddenly parched. She was also shaking a little bit. Her ex- fiancé was moving in next door. This was probably an epically bad idea.
Lucy: Okay then. When do you think you’ll start moving in?
Miles: I’m delivering holiday food baskets on Saturday for the Youth Center. I’ll be there Sunday, if that’s okay.
Sunday. As in two days from now. Two days from now, Miles Bruno would be living next door.
Lucy texted back.
Lucy: Perfect. Sunday sounds good.
Chapter Four
On Saturday morning, Miles got up and quickly changed into a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved tee. Then he combed his hair, brushed his teeth, and headed into the kitchen. He drank half a glass of water and grabbed an apple for the drive to Charlie’s house. That was one of the things that had him most excited for the day. Helping to deliver the food baskets with Charlie would be good for the kid. Sometimes when you were stuck in a hard time, seeing others in similar conditions made you feel less alone.
A short drive later, Miles pulled into the Bates’ driveway. Charlie was already sitting on the front porch, dressed in jeans and an oversized gray hoodie. He stood and paused for a long, drawn out yawn and then continued walking toward Miles’s truck.
“Your mom woke you up, didn’t she?” Miles said in lieu of hello.
“I usually sleep in on the weekends,” Charlie confirmed. “But it’s all good. I don’t mind,” Charlie said with a shrug and another exaggerated yawn.
“Great. We’re going to have an amazing day. You’ll see.” He glanced over. “Hungry?”
Charlie smiled for the first time this morning. “Yeah.”
“How about we go to Sweetie’s first and grab a little something to eat on the way? My treat.”
Charlie looked a bit more enthusiastic. “Yeah. Mrs. Darla’s chocolate muffins are the best.”
“That’s not breakfast. That’s cake,” Miles teased. “But whatever you want this morning, you get.”
“Coffee too?” Charlie asked.
Miles side-eyed him. “Are you allowed to drink coffee?”
“My mom says I’m old beyond my years.”
No doubt because life had dealt him a hard deck of cards thus far. “Half caff,” Miles agreed.
Charlie was grinning now, boyish dimples carving deep holes in his cheeks.
After stopping at the bakery and loading up on carbs and coffee, Miles and Charlie went to the youth center to load the baskets into the back of his truck. Miles noted that the baskets looked disturbed as he picked the first one up. The contents were shifted around and laying unnaturally in some. He kneeled beside one basket and inspected it for a moment, taking stock of what was inside.
“What’s wrong?” Charlie asked, standing behind him.
“I’m not sure yet,” Miles said.
“What’s all in the baskets?” Charlie asked.
Miles rattled off the list as he continued to assess what was off about the situation. “A couple cans of vegetables, a bag of rice. A box of mashed potatoes, a pie crust and a can of pumpkin filling, ingredients for string bean casserole—my personal favorite—and a gift card to the market for a turkey.”
“Wow. That’s a lot,” Charlie said.
“It is.” Miles realized that the bags of homemade cookies weren’t there. He looked at the next basket and the ones near that. “The cookies are missing,” he told Charlie. “All the bags of cookies that the women’s group at the church made and donated are gone.”
“Who would steal cookies from the baskets?”
Miles shook his head. “Exactly. Stealing Christmas cookies is pretty low.” He blew out a breath. The baskets were still deliverable. They still had all the necessary ingredients for a nice holiday meal minus the special touch of something homemade. He’d deal with the missing cookies later. “All right,” he said, looking at Charlie over his shoulder, “cookies or not, we have a lot of baskets to deliver this morning. We better get started.”
They loaded the truck bed and then drove to the first address. Miles pulled onto a road and slowed to read the house numbers. “We’re looking for house number two-eleven,” he told Charlie.
Charlie peered out the passenger side. Then he pointed a finger into the window. “There it is.”
“Great job.” Miles turned in and parked. “All right. You wanna do the honors?”
Charlie blanched a little. “What do I have to do?”
“Grab a basket from the back, carry it to the door, ring the bell, and when someone answers, say Happy Thanksgiving.”
“That’s it?” Charlie asked.
“Pretty much. Easy, right?”
“Sounds like it. What if they ask who the basket’s from?” Charlie asked.
“Tell them it’s from the Youth Center and the community. Go for it, bud.” Miles sat behind the steering wheel and watched as Charlie delivered the first basket and then the next ten after that. It didn’t take long to hand out the first haul.
“Fun, right?” Miles asked.
“Better than the skate park,” Charlie said, more enthusiastic than usual.
At nearly noon, they loaded the truck with more baskets and headed to the next house on the list.
“I’ll get this basket,” Miles told Charlie. “I know the people who live here.”
Kimberly and Chris Evans kept to themselves for the most part. Miles hadn’t even known they were struggling financially although, come to think of it, Chris was laid off last year. He’d been working odd jobs around town as far as Miles could tell. Miles wasn’t sure what Kim did for a living.
Charlie leaned back into the truck seat, prepared to sit this one out. Miles got out of the truck, grabbed a basket from the back, and walked it up to the front porch. He rang the doorbell and waited. When no one came to the door, Miles rang the bell again. This time, he heard someone call from the other side. Miles leaned in and listened more closely. Were they calling for help?
He twisted the door knob, and the door opened. “Hello?” he called out, searching for someone.
“In here!” a woman’s voice answered.
Miles followed Kim’s voice to the back bedroom and found the young woman bent over with her hand on her very pregnant belly. “Kim, are you okay?”
Her face was scrunched in evident pain. “I’m having…a contraction.”
Miles set the basket down on the floor and pulled out his cell phone. He
dialed nine-one-one and held the phone to his ear.
Moira’s voice answered. “Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?”
“Moira?” Miles asked.
Moira sighed. “What’s your emergency?” she repeated.
“I’m at Kimberly Evan’s home, and she’s having contractions. I’m not sure if she’s in labor or not. She might need to go to the hospital.”
“Or,” Moira said, “we can just send Lucy there to check her out first. Lucy is a friend of Kim’s, and she’s been giving her a little advice on the side.”
“I see.” He looked at Kim. “Would you like us to call Lucy Hannigan?”
Kim nodded quickly and then moaned through another contraction. “Yes, thank you. I don’t want to go to the hospital before I’m ready. It’s too expensive.”
“I’m on it,” Moira said on the other line. “I’m texting Lucy right now. And for the record,” she told Miles, “a pregnant woman having contractions is not an emergency.”
It felt like one to Miles. “Sorry,” he said.
Moira laughed quietly. “Lucy just texted back. She says she’ll be there ASAP.”
“Lucy Hannigan is on her way,” Miles told Kim.
Kim moaned through what Miles suspected was another contraction.
“Where’s Chris?” Moira asked on the other line.
Good question. “What about Chris?” Miles asked Kim. “Where is he?”
“Out of town. For a job interview. I can’t mess that up.”—Kim moaned again—“I just need Lucy. Please tell her to get here quickly!”
“Hear that, Moira? Tell Lucy we need her,” Miles said. And he didn’t misspeak. It wasn’t just Kim Evans who needed Lucy. He was out of his element right now, and Lucy couldn’t get here fast enough.
* * *
Lucy got to Kim Evan’s house as quickly as she could. She bypassed Miles’ truck in the driveway, noting that the bed was full of food baskets. Charlie Bates was waiting on the front porch, waving Lucy in that direction.
What is Charlie doing here?
Charlie was the thirteen-year-old son of Maria Bates. There was no time to ask questions though. Kim needed her. Lucy stepped inside the house and followed the painful sounds toward the back bedroom where Miles appeared to be trying to make himself useful, fluffing pillows and putting them down by Kim’s feet.
“What’s going on, Kim?” Lucy stepped quickly toward the bed.
“Oh, thank goodness you’re here! I’m…having contractions,” Kim said through a grimace. “They’re pretty bad.”
Lucy could see that clearly by Kim’s scrunched expression. “How far apart?” she asked.
“A few minutes,” Miles answered. “I’ve been timing them.”
Lucy’s gaze hung too long on Miles, who was not the patient. She looked at Kim. “Your water isn’t broken?”
Kim shook her head. “No.”
“Any bleeding?” Lucy asked, scanning Kim’s body for anything alarming.
“No.”
“Good. Okay, I need to examine you to see what’s going.” Lucy turned back to Miles and gave him a pointed look. When he didn’t move, she asked, “Can you give us some privacy?”
“Oh. Yeah. Of course.” He looked embarrassed and maybe a little shell-shocked for the brave deputy who always seemed to have his act together. He hurried out of the room and closed the door behind him.
Lucy returned her focus to her friend. Kim’s current contraction seemed to be letting up. Her face relaxed, and her eyes opened fully. “You know Chris and I don’t have insurance. We can’t afford for me to go to the doctor’s office any more than I need to.”
Lucy sat on the edge of the bed. “I know.” And she’d agreed to check on Kim for non-urgent situations if the mother-to-be was also getting cared for at the free pregnancy center in Magnolia Falls.
Lucy pulled a pair of sterile gloves from the medical kit she’d brought with her and went through a short exam. The Braxton Hicks contractions were easing up, which was a good sign.
“You’re not in labor,” Lucy finally said. “You’re not even dilated. Did you overwork yourself today somehow?”
Kim was lying back on her bed, her hands resting on her swollen belly. “Maybe a little. I decided that the house needed cleaning, and I couldn’t seem to stop.”
“That’s called nesting,” Lucy said. “You’re preparing for the baby, who doesn’t appear to be coming today.” That was good news since Kim’s due date wasn’t until next month, closer to Christmas.
“Thank you for coming over so quickly. And on a Saturday too.”
“You’re welcome. And you can feel free to call me about anything. You know if the situation is urgent. Medical insurance or not, you go to the hospital if you have contractions that don’t ease up, your water breaks, or if you have bleeding.” Lucy narrowed her eyes to make a point.
Kim nodded solemnly. “I know. I will, I promise.”
“Good.”
Kim shifted back and forth to bring her body to a sitting position. Then Lucy walked to the bathroom directly off the bedroom to dispose of the gloves and wash her hands. Miles and Charlie were waiting in the living room when Lucy walked back out.
“She’s resting. There won’t be a baby today or any need to go to the hospital,” she informed them.
Miles looked so nervous that it was almost adorable. He turned back to Charlie. “I promised to have you home by one o’clock.” He pulled out his cell phone to check the time. “It’s ten minutes ’til.”
Charlie stood from the couch. “Right. I’m kid-sitting to earn extra cash.”
“At least you got to deliver the first round of baskets with me. I really appreciate the help,” Miles said.
“It was actually kind of fun. You don’t have to drive me home. I just live at the end of the road, and the kid lives across from me.”
“You sure?” Miles asked.
“Yeah.” Charlie shrugged lanky shoulders as if to say no big deal.
Miles gestured outside. “Grab a basket off the truck bed and bring it home to your mom.”
Charlie hesitated. “Really?”
“Of course. We have plenty.” And Charlie’s family needed the food as much as the rest of the folks who’d be getting a basket today.
“I will. Thanks. See you later, Deputy Bruno.”
“I’m volunteering at the youth center next week,” Miles called to him. “I’m gonna need help setting up and breaking down a few activities.”
“I can lend a hand,” Charlie said on his way out.
Lucy watched the two and wondered about the arrangement they seemed to have. Why would a thirteen-year-old boy be helping Miles? She didn’t think it was out of the goodness of Charlie’s heart, although she’d always considered the teen and his older sister, Brittney, to be nice.
Charlie stepped out of the house, leaving Lucy and Miles alone in the front room.
“So she’s okay?” Miles confirmed.
“If she wasn’t, I’d drive her to the hospital myself,” Lucy assured him. “It’s just Braxton Hick contractions.”
Miles’s gaze clung to Lucy. “Thanks for getting here so fast. Pregnant women make me nervous.”
This made Lucy laugh. “Why is that?”
“I had to deliver a baby once. A neighbor called about a disturbance, and I responded to the call. There was no time for an ambulance to arrive. It was just me and the mother, and within minutes, baby made three.”
“Sounds scary. But I’d also say you were lucky,” Lucy said. “Seeing that miracle of life is the most amazing feeling in the world.”
Miles looked down at his feet for a moment. “It was. It also made me feel pretty helpless. I was glad to have you on speed dial today.”
“Well, if that’s all, I’ll return to my previously scheduled Saturday.” Lucy stepped past Miles onto the porch and watched as he locked Kim’s front door and pulled it shut.
“What were you doing on your previously scheduled Saturday?” h
e asked, walking beside her as they descended the porch steps.
Lucy didn’t want to tell Miles the full truth, that she was bored out of her mind and dwelling on the fact that he was moving into her garage apartment tomorrow. “I was thinking about cleaning the apartment so that it’s nice and shiny for you when you arrive in the morning.”
“No need to do that. I’ll clean it.” Miles shoved his hands into his pockets. “Instead, why don’t you join me in delivering the rest of the food baskets? I have about fifteen left.”
Lucy looked at his truck, weighing her answer. She kind of wanted to say yes, but that would mean spending all afternoon with Miles while riding shotgun.
She turned back to him ready to say no because she didn’t need to encourage the attraction between them. And part of her suspected that he was only asking because he was worried about her being alone as the holidays drew near. That seemed to be a theme among the people she knew. “Are you going to try to make me say yes to your mom’s invitation to Thanksgiving dinner too?” she asked, folding her arms over her chest.
Miles chuckled quietly. “No. But the invitation still stands. It’s up to you if you decide to accept it or not. You’d be doing me a favor by coming and helping me win my mom’s guest challenge.”
Lucy really wanted to help deliver the baskets with him. Focusing on others was always a good way to forget your own problems. Or the fact that Lucy was missing her mom right now. “Okay,” she finally said. “I’ll help.”
* * *
Miles’s palms were sweaty against his steering wheel. Pregnant women unnerved him, but so did Lucy Hannigan. “What’s the street number?” he asked as he slowed on the next road for delivery.