Yes, after that, his parents had drunk themselves into oblivion, dying in a senseless car wreck that had more to do with his father’s inability to say no to vodka than anything else.
He scooped up Pia, hugging her fiercely.
He began to walk. Off the porch. Across the overgrown yard. Down to the lake’s edge.
On the rocky shore, he allowed long-overdue tears to fall.
Tears for his mom and the red bandanna she’d worn over her hair up here at the cabin, because she didn’t want any neighbors dropping in on her when she didn’t look her best. Dad had always given her hell for that, considering their nearest neighbor was a good five miles down the road.
A twig crunched, and he hugged Pia harder, praying Annie wasn’t standing behind him, witnessing his emotion.
He was a man, dammit.
A man totally in control of his life and surroundings.
From a few feet beside him, Annie said softly, “When I was little, I always dreamed of coming to a place like this. My parents were never all that keen on camping, though. They were more the Holiday Inn type. Remember how popular those used to be? For my eleventh birthday, my folks made sure they were back in town. They rented two rooms in the motel closest to where we lived. I got to invite three girls for a sleep-over, and we spent practically the whole night splashing around in the indoor pool. My birthday’s December fourteenth, so that was quite a treat. Birthday cake and poolside pizza with a grumpy sky threatening to snow. Boy, let me tell you, that party elevated my social status by a good mile. Anyway, this is a really nice place you’ve got here, mister. Not quite on par with a Holiday Inn, but I’m loving it just the same.”
She put her hand on his shoulder, and that was his undoing.
He wanted to stay strong.
God, he wanted to stay strong, but he was too tired.
He needed help. He needed Annie.
Turning to her, Pia still in his arms, he crushed Annie in a hug, the squirming baby between them.
Annie hugged him back as best she could, and they stood there for the longest time, hugging, not saying a word, while tears streamed down his cheeks.
This woman, this enigma, was so damned good for him.
Just when he thought he knew what she was going to say, Annie went and said the opposite. Just when he thought she’d scold him for not opening up, she pulled him in deeper into his heart, forcing him to open up whether he wanted to or not—at least to himself.
And how great was that? She didn’t seem to care how he worked out his problems. She only cared that he did, and that he came back to her when he was done.
How could he have known her for a mere few days when it felt like a lifetime?
From where would he find the courage to tell her he had to stop seeing her when the time came to take her home?
For she’d become an addiction he would have to stop. He was no good for her. Always trying to be in control but failing.
She’d be much better off without him.
Trouble was, he got the feeling that without her, he might never be better again.
Chapter Nine
“Ugh.” Annie lugged in the last awkward packs of diapers and wipes. On their way out of town, Jed had accused her of packing waaaay too many baby supplies, but since they were spending the night in a place that might as well be a thousand miles from the nearest Baby Depot, she was happy to have erred on the side of caution.
“Is that everything?” Jed asked on the porch, rubbing his lower back after setting down his heavy load of formula.
The creatures who drank all that formula were inside, indulging in their latest nap.
“I think so,” Annie said. “Oh—what about our stuff? Want me to get it?”
“Nah. I’ll handle it.”
While he walked to the van, Annie stood on the porch, hands on the rail, enjoying the light conifer-scented breeze that brushed curls against her cheeks.
Wow, what a beautiful place.
Even though it was only six, the mountain’s shadow crept into their sheltered valley, creating the illusion that it was later in the day. Time for a crackling fire in the stone hearth. For marshmallows and sharing stories.
The cabin and the land around it were magical.
Straight from a more innocent era, like those old Doris Day and Rock Hudson movies, where trouble was having one’s hat blow off in a sudden wind.
She sighed. If only things weren’t so complicated now. Jed was still worried about Patti. But what was Patti worried about? Was her marriage not as great as it seemed? Was she mired in an epic case of postpartum depression?
If she were Patti, Annie could’ve done a lot of thinking up here.
Annie swallowed painfully.
She had never felt so helpless as she had back there beside the lake, when Jed had poured out his soul with just one heartbreaking look into his eyes.
The man was eaten up inside, and she had no idea what to do.
Maybe that was why she got along so well with babies.
When they cried, all it took to fix them was the basics.
They wanted to be cleaned.
Fed.
Held.
Men, on the other hand, were a total mystery. Sure, she and Jed had shared a few wonderful kisses, but that moment down by the lake, that had been much more intimate.
For just an instant, when he’d turned to her, reached out to her and only her for comfort, he’d been emotionally naked. She’d wanted to help him so badly, but how? Where did she begin to—
“That’s the last of it,” Jed said, clomping onto the porch, carrying their overnight bags.
“Looks like the cab light’s still on. Want me to check it?”
He glanced over his shoulder toward the van. “Nah, I think it’s just the angle of the sun.”
Are you feeling better? she wanted to ask, but didn’t have the nerve.
“What’s for dinner?” Jed asked.
She blinked back hot tears.
So that was how it was going to be. He’d pretend what’d happened earlier hadn’t happened at all, but because she couldn’t bear to see him in that much pain again so soon, she’d let him go on pretending.
For now.
But not forever.
As his friend, she owed it to Jed to see him through his troubles with Patti, then help him handle a few of his own.
Isn’t that considerate of you?
Like she didn’t have problems of her own?
“Dinner, huh?” Thinking two could play the avoidance game—at least for one more night—Annie pasted on her brightest smile. “Dinner, huh? How about Canned Good Surprise followed by Stale Road Food?”
“Sounds good.” He set the bags next to his feet and pulled her into his arms.
She rested her cheek against his chest and listened to his heartbeat, his breath.
What was happening between them?
What was her fascination with this man?
She hardly knew him, yet she felt as if she’d always known him.
Jed ran his fingers through her hair, and her throat ached with the tenderness of his touch. With her wish that life could be different. That love could be different. That neither had to hurt.
The pleasure and pain of it was devastating, and Annie squeezed him for all she was worth.
“I couldn’t have done this without you,” he said. “How can I thank you?”
Gazing up at him, tears pooling in her eyes, a smile playing on her lips, she said, “You just did.”
“OUT WITH IT,” Jed said several hours later in front of a crackling fire. “Where’d you learn how to whip up a meal like that out of nothing?”
Annie rolled her eyes while putting fresh socks on each baby. “It was just baked beans and canned ham. My grandmother taught me that crushed potato chip trick.”
“Yeah, well…” He took the next baby on the assembly line and slipped Pia’s chubby arms and legs into soft, pink pj’s. “Next time you see her, tell her I like it.�
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“I will.” She cradled Richard close and kissed him just above his ear. “You are so adorable. Do you have any idea what a heartbreaker you’re going to be?”
“I can see it now,” Jed said. “Us getting a call from his first-grade teacher telling us how he spends every recess chasing all the girls.”
“Don’t you mean Patti and Howie?” Annie asked.
“That’s what I said.” Wasn’t it?
She looked so beautiful right now with her hair glowing in the firelight. She made him want his own family. His own wife, who’d never run out on him the way his flaky sister had. Annie would be a great mother. What else would she be good at?
“Do you have any idea how kissable you look?” he asked.
Laughing with eyes that were luminous and inviting, she shook her head.
“What do you think we should do about it?” he said, fingering one of her curls.
“Quit goofing around. We still have to get these guys and gal tucked in for the night.”
“So? What’s so tough about that?”
“You think they’re going to fall asleep like magic?”
“A guy can dream, can’t he?” Just as he’d dreamed of how his life might play out with her living in his home instead of next door….
“I’ve always liked dreams,” Annie said softly.
Together, quietly, efficiently, in the coordinated motions of an old married couple, Jed helped Annie put the babies into the playpen he’d unearthed from the back of the van.
“They’re perfect, aren’t they?” she said, shyly reaching for his hand.
They’d set up the temporary crib in a corner of the bedroom where it was dark except for a milky swath of moonlight over three, blanket-wrapped angels.
Annie shivered. “Do you think they’ll be warm enough in here?”
“Has anyone ever told you you worry too much?”
“Yes, but—”
Jed stopped her with a kiss.
Nothing fancy. He just wanted to show her how much he looked forward to the rest of their night.
She groaned, and the vibration of it against his chest pushed him over the edge. To hell with the restraint he’d been hanging on to.
He wanted her, needed her—now.
And he was so damned glad she felt the same.
Still holding hands, Annie led him into the living room, straight to the fire, then past the fire, then—what the…? “What are you doing with that Scrabble game?” Jed asked as she took it from a shelf. “I thought we were going to make out.”
“How’d you get that idea?”
“Well, the way you kissed me back there, I assumed—”
She pressed her finger to his lips. “That’s your biggest problem, Jed. I may worry too much, but you assume too much.”
“NO WAY IS muzjiks a word.”
“Sure it is,” Annie said. “It’s a plural variation of the spelling of m-u-z-h-i-k.”
“Which is?”
She grinned. “A Russian peasant.”
“Right. Should’ve known.”
“One-hundred and twenty-eight points.”
“I quit.”
“But you haven’t even played your first word.”
“And I’m already so far behind, there’s no way I could ever catch up. Can you think of a better reason to quit?”
“Now where’s your competitive spirit? My grandmother and I play Scrabble all the time. She’s so good, though, I have to study the Scrabble Dictionary on my lunch breaks.”
“Well?” he asked, grabbing a handful of the Jiffy Pop popcorn they’d found above the fridge. “Do you win now?”
“I wish.” She laughed. “I’ve never beaten her.”
He sighed before placing d-o-r-k. “Has your grandma ever entered any tournaments?”
“Before her hip went bad, she was the Oklahoma state champ. But I don’t think she’s played much since her surgery.”
“And what does that make you? Some kind of Scrabble hustler? Luring unsuspecting innocents such as me into—”
“Oh—” she said, nearly snorting her cocoa up her nose from laughing. “Let me get this straight. You—Mr. Kiss a Poor, Helpless Preschool Teacher in the stinky old belly of a beer-can cow—you are calling yourself an innocent?”
The size of his smile took her breath away. Had there ever been a handsomer man? A man she wanted to kiss as much as she wanted to kiss him? He was a mischievous boy and at the same time all man. A hard, muscled man. Although she knew better, she craved the taste of his delicious lips.
They each played five more words, and with every new draw of letter tiles, Annie grew more confused. What was she doing? Joking with him? Flirting? Was there something in the crisp, clear mountain air that made her forget her vows to stay clear of all men—and in particular, one as seemingly perfect as Jed?
They planned to head straight home in the morning. Once they got there, her good judgment would surely return, but until then, she was tired of being good. She was tired of playing Scrabble. She was tired of pretending she didn’t find Jed incredibly attractive.
Still, tired as she was, she had to remember she was wary of nursing another broken heart. Already, no matter how hard she’d tried to fight it, her feelings for Jed went miles beyond what she’d ever felt for Conner or Troy.
Which was why, right now, before the fire glowed any softer, before they shared one more mug of cocoa, she needed to call it a night.
Feigning a yawn, she said, “I’m beat. Ready for bed?”
“Sure, but there’s a problem.”
“What?”
“Have you forgotten there’s only one bed?”
“You can have it,” she said. “I don’t mind crashing on the sofa.”
“Yeah, well, I mind. How about we share the bed?”
She folded the Scrabble board in half and let the tiles slide into the plastic bag they’d been stored in. “You think that’s a good idea?”
“What’s the matter?” he asked. “You don’t trust me to keep my hands to myself?”
Oh, she trusted him, but she feared she couldn’t trust herself. What if she rolled up against him in the middle of the night, basking in his warmth, his strength?
“Come on,” he said, putting the screen in front of the dying fire. Finished, he held out his hand. “Let’s get some sleep.”
Not for the first time that day—or even that week—Annie followed her heart instead of her brain. Linking her fingers with Jed’s, she let him lead her to bed.
“RISE AND SHINE, sleepyhead.”
“Already?” Annie yawned.
Jed laughed and kissed her forehead. “Shoot, the babies have already been up for hours. We’re all fed and diapered and packed. All the van’s missing is you.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?” she asked.
He trailed his finger so gently down her cheek she wasn’t sure he’d touched her at all.
Hugging her down pillow, Annie recalled the long wonderful night she’d spent cuddled next to him. Had they met at a different time under different circumstances, maybe he’d still be in bed beside her.
“You looked so peaceful,” he said. “I thought I’d just let you sleep.”
Her stomach growled. She put her hands over it and blushed. “I don’t suppose you brought breakfast?”
From the nightstand, he took a plate of the remaining peanut brittle they’d bought at the beer-can cow. “Sorry. This is all we had left—unless you have a craving for baked beans. In which case, I can open a fresh can.”
She shook her head. “I love sweet stuff for breakfast. I’ll pretend this is crunchy pastry.”
“That’s the spirit.” He started to fold the playpen but didn’t have much luck.
“Let me help.” Annie said, slipping out from under the light down comforter that’d kept the chilly mountain night at bay.
In under a minute, she’d folded the playpen and slid it back into its carrying case.
Jed crossed his arms.
“Woman, you delight in making me look bad, don’t you?”
Grabbing her overnight bag on her way to the bathroom, she winked. “I’ll never tell.”
Five minutes later, she’d tucked her hair into a pony-tail, slapped on a hat, brushed her teeth, washed her face, and changed into khaki shorts and a University of Oklahoma sweatshirt.
Back in the living room, she put her sneakers on. “Where are the babies?” she asked Jed as he stood in the front door. “I haven’t even had a chance to hug them this morning.”
“They’re in their car seats. I have to admit, I’m a little antsy to get home.”
“I’ll bet by the time we get there, Patti’s going to be the one worrying about you.”
He took a deep breath. “I hope you’re right—not that I want her to be worried, but—”
“I know.”
The living room was gloomy with all the shades drawn and the dust covers back over the sofa and chairs. Had it really been just last night that the place had felt so inviting?
“Looks like you’ve thought of everything,” Annie said. “Want me to strip the sheets off the bed? You probably shouldn’t leave them on dirty.”
“I grabbed them while you were in the bathroom.”
“Okay…” She took one last look at the idyllic cabin she’d never see again. “I get the hint. Let’s go.”
Hand on the small of her back, Jed guided her from the house. She struggled to keep her composure.
Even though she hardly knew this guy, and had no emotional ties whatsoever to this run-down cabin, Annie knew she wouldn’t forget the short time they’d shared.
Cooking that strange mix of canned foods for a dinner that’d actually tasted pretty good. Bathing the babies one by one in the chipped white porcelain sink. Laughing over Scrabble. Sharing that big old wrought-iron bed, and just as she’d feared, rolling into Jed’s arms in the night. Only instead of hating it, she’d loved it. And she irrationally wished she could do all of it again.
Jed opened the van’s passenger-side door for her.
Once in her seat, Annie promptly swung around to say good-morning to the three cuties chomping on teething rings. “I missed you,” she said, touching the nearest hand.
“Believe me,” Jed said, climbing into the seat beside her. “They missed you. I didn’t think I’d ever get their diapers changed. Every time I thought I was finished, some wise guy—Richard—had to go again.”
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