Falling in Love: A Secret Baby Romance (Rockford Falls Romance)

by Natasha L. Black

  During the picnic, we sat on the grass and I brought her Boppy because she would not sit in the stroller. If we tried to hold her while we ate, she grabbed for whatever we had even though she had zero teeth to eat it with. So, she had to use that U-shaped pillow to prop her up so she could sit like Miss Independence. That would be why Drew said she took after her mama, too. After we ate, Drew and his brother carried her around and showed her the animals at the petting zoo and won her a ridiculously big pink teddy bear at the ring toss that benefits the community center.

  Greg and Katie came in for the parade and brought their newborn, Donovan Andrew Casey. Drew was so honored that they gave their son his name for a middle name. I was pretty sure Drew’s mom hadn’t put Donovan down once since they arrived at the picnic. She’d shown him off to all her friends, her second grandbaby. Since she had her hands full, we actually got to play with Brielle. Normally there was no way to keep that nana from claiming our baby girl and showering her with nonstop attention. His parents really did embrace me and our baby girl from the second they found out I was pregnant. It was really special to have his parents doting on me since I’d been an orphan for years.

  The most special part though, was watching Drew be a daddy to our little girl. He moved into the house I inherited the weekend after last Fourth of July, and sold his house. Because I had inherited it from my mom, who inherited it from her grandma, we decided it had nothing to do with my father, and that the best revenge on him for trying to keep us apart was to live a long, happy life in that house. The one he didn’t want to even let Drew inside of when we were dating the first time around.

  The festival was such a fun time for our little family. When Casey’s Garage was recognized as the platinum sponsor of the parade, Drew took Brielle up on stage in matching little Casey’s Garage t-shirts (Brie had on ruffly-butt baby jeans to go with hers) and said he looked forward to the garage going on to include a new generation of Caseys. His mom had cried then, and taken pictures with her phone. It was pretty damn adorable.

  Katie and I were eating homemade ice cream and sharing horror stories about our babies waking up three times in the middle of the night to eat. I noticed that Drew had been gone a while on his lemonade run. I gave Brie a taste of the ice cream off the tip of my finger and she waved her arms and sucked on my finger.

  “Baby girl’s gonna eat my whole finger!” I laughed. “It’s a good thing she doesn’t have any teeth yet,” I said.

  “Donovan just wants to sleep during the day so he can party all night. I doubt he’d notice if I offered him ice cream,” Katie said with a rueful smile.

  “He’ll sleep more pretty soon. When Brie started sleeping four hours at a time, it felt like a spa vacation,” I said with a laugh. “I was human again and had thoughts other than, ‘Jesus help me, I’m so tired!’”

  “Keep telling me that. I need hope. I love him to bits and I’m so happy…”

  “You’re human and you’re exhausted. It’s okay to love the baby and still miss being able to sleep,” I told her, shifting Brielle to my other arm as she finally napped.

  I spotted Drew talking with Trixie and Nicole. He made his way over with the lemonade and a big plate of fried chicken and biscuits.

  “I know we ate some already, but the Mayor’s office is frying chicken and I know a couple of new moms who could use an extra snack. Want some?” he said.

  “Take your daughter. I want chicken,” I laughed, trading him the sleeping baby for the plate of food. Katie nabbed a biscuit and took a bite.

  “These are fantastic,” she said.

  Soon a few more people sat down to fortify themselves with chicken, an unexpected second course after the burgers and hot dogs a couple hours ago. It was so nice just relaxing and catching up with everyone. I’d only been back to work at the library for about six weeks so I was still catching up on the news around town. We were planning a long weekend in Chicago over Labor Day, and I was trying to convince Greg and Katie to bring Donovan back in the fall so the cousins could go to their first pumpkin patch together.

  “Imagine how cute they’ll be in little knit hats riding in a wagon!” I said. “You know we have to make the grandparents a calendar of the babies for Christmas.”

  “That sounds amazing,” Katie agreed. “As long as I can get a pumpkin spice latte down here in the South, I’ll be happy.”

  “It’ll still be sweating hot, but we’ll put the flannel shirts and sock hats on the babies for pictures and then strip them down to onesies,” I laughed.

  After a diaper blowout that required a trip to the dumpster by the courthouse, I caught myself yawning. It wasn’t even fireworks time yet, but this mama was wiped out. I turned to Drew, who was cradling Brielle as if she hadn’t just done the yuckiest smelling thing imaginable.

  “Would you be upset if we left early?”

  “Anything you want,” he said with a smile. “Go say bye to Nic and Trixie. I’ll get Brie’s stuff packed up.”

  As soon as I started toward Nic, she turned and grabbed me. “I want to take my goddaughter home tonight,” she said.

  “Are you sure? You have a toddler. Your hands are full,” I said. “Besides, I’m already yawning.”

  “Well, have an iced coffee and wake yourself up. We’re about to take the pooper scooper home for a bath. I told his dad not to let him anywhere near the geese because geese are assholes, but no. He didn’t listen and then the child grabs goose poop in his hand. I think I used half a pack of wipes and it still grosses me out. So, yes, I’m sure. I want to soak up Brie’s sweet, baby powder smell and try to forget what happened with the goose. Go out with Drew. Have fun. Wear a regular bra instead of a nursing one.”

  “But they’re so comfy,” I whined a little.

  “I know, but they droop. Strap those puppies back up and go have some fun. Consider me your fairy godmother. Give me the baby, put on a bra, and go wild.”

  “They should totally put that line in Cinderella. And if they could work in the part about goose poop that would improve the movie, too. Maybe in a song.”

  “Right. Give me my goddaughter. I’ll send you a pic when she’s sleeping angelically, and Cooper is climbing across the couch pretending to be the Hulk.”

  “I love you,” I said. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “We won’t stay out late.”

  “Take your time. I want to rock her and savor the cuddly wee baby stage. You can pick her up in the morning.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Do I have to tell you the poop story again? I will do it. I’ll use sound effects,” she threatened and I laughed.

  I hurried over to Drew and told him. He grinned.

  “Did you have something to do with her offer?” I asked suspiciously. He feigned innocence and I rolled my eyes. “Fine, we’re going home. I’ve been instructed to put on real clothes, not mom ones.”

  “Whatever you say, Chel,” he said.

  We drove the short distance home. I put on makeup, a bra with an underwire, a cute sundress that was just a little too tight post-baby and let my hair down. Not too bad for a sleep-deprived librarian, I thought when I studied my reflection as I put on red lipstick.

  When I came out of the bathroom, Drew was wearing a shirt and tie.

  “Are we going to the bank for an after-hours loan?” I teased. “You never dress up.”

  “Maybe I like dressing up for the woman I love. Come on.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “We’re going to take this cold bottle of champagne up on the roof and watch the fireworks for starters,” he said.

  Drew was holding a chilled bottle of Moet and two glasses. I followed him up the stairs and up through the attic, out on to the pretty railed widow’s walk on top of the house. There, just beneath the trees, we could see the starry clear night perfectly. He spread a blanket and we sat down.

  “Hey, this is romantic and I didn’t even have to wear shoes,” I said.

>   “I know how to treat a lady,” he said with a kiss on my forehead. “You are so beautiful. Every night, but especially tonight. Have I told you how happy I am with you? How grateful I am for the second chance you gave us and for our beautiful daughter?”

  “Yeah, you have. But I like to hear it, so go on,” I said. “The truth is, if you asked me on my thirty-sixth birthday where I’d be in a year and a half, I would not have said sitting on the roof of our house with you watching fireworks and drinking champagne while someone watches our healthy baby girl.”

  “What would you have said?”

  “Something bitter about having cats and no life, probably. And you?”

  “I would have tried to put some enthusiasm into talking about fixing electric cars.”

  “You’ve done pretty well with that, you have to admit.”

  “It’s nothing compared to this,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He kissed me softly, nudging my lips apart, tasting my mouth, giving me a long, toe-curling kiss that lit my body up. I gave a sigh as my muscles loosened and my heart melted from his loving touch.

  I heard the boom of the first fireworks and got to my feet to watch them.

  “Red one!” I said, “Green!” I was calling out the colors of the fireworks as he stood behind me, his arms wrapped around me, kissing my neck. It was so romantic, like we were a million miles from anywhere, just watching bright stars explode above us while the cool breeze slid along my skin.

  When a few spidery chrysanthemum fireworks went off at once, I oohed and aahed. Those were my favorites, pale gold and sparkling. Then he let go of me. When I turned to see why Drew had taken away his arms, I saw him drop to his knee. He took something from his pocket and held it up. It caught the golden light and glittered with a light of its own. A diamond ring.

  “Michelle Aubrey Spelling, will you marry me?” he asked. My hands flew to my mouth and I squealed, elated. I hadn’t thought I could be any happier than I was standing in his arms watching the fireworks, thinking how perfect our life was. Then he proposed to me.

  “Yes!” I said. “Yes!”

  Drew slipped the ring on my finger, surged to his feet and kissed me soundly, “I’ve wanted to ask you that since you were sixteen years old, Chel. It feels good to hear you say yes.”

  “Then I’ll say it again and again. Yes, Drew. It’s always a yes,” I said, giggling as he picked me up and kissed me under the light of the fireworks above. Nothing could have been more perfect.

  The Lumberjack's Nanny (Sample)

  Enjoyed the story? Please check out “The Lumberjack's Nanny” This is book three of the series.

  Stories can be read in any order.

  Enjoy this free sample!!

  1

  Rachel

  “So, where’s my girl?” I said, pouring Laura a cup of coffee.

  “Brenna’s with my mom today. She has to have a chance to spoil her every couple of days, or they’ll both have a panic attack,” Laura joked.

  “So, you’re saying you knew you were coming in here for coffee and pie and you deliberately left my precious Goddaughter somewhere else?” I asked, hand on my hip.

  “Yes. You’re stuck with just me.”

  “You? I’ve been putting up with you for thirty years. She’s new and cute. Step aside,” I teased.

  “You’re saying I lost to a two-year-old?” she said.

  “She’s two and a half. Jeez, you’d think you’d know that since you gave birth to her,” I said.

  “I do know that. And it’s not weird AT ALL that you can tell me how many months old she is at any given time.”

  “Thirty-one months. And six days,” I said with a grin.

  “Seriously?”

  “I don’t know about the six days. I just tacked that on to freak you out. I’m not obsessed. She’s just incredibly cute.”

  “Yeah, you say that because she didn’t wake you at one in the morning because she wanted juice. And Mickey Mouse on TV. It isn’t so damn cute when you’ve got dark circles under your eyes that could double as Halloween makeup,” Laura sighed.

  “You’re gorgeous, shut up. And I don’t think Brody has a problem with your dark circles. Since he always looks like he wants to jump you.”

  “He does always want to jump me. But that’s men. They’re not picky,” she laughed.

  “Trust me, hon, Brody was the pickiest of the lot. Nobody ever thought he’d get married again after his first wife died.”

  “Then I came back to town with my unique sex appeal,” Laura joked with a goofy grin.

  “You two are so adorable I could gag.”

  “Speaking of gagging, who the fuck made this banana cream pie, ‘cause I know it wasn’t you.”

  “Hugh. The old man goes through spurts of thinking he could run this place without me, even though I’ve made all the pies and managed the joint since high school. So he tried his hand at baking.”

  “It’s nasty. I’m gonna go throw it at him. He will lose his entire customer base if he keeps serving whatever this is—soap and slime?”

  “Once he sees all the leftover unsold banana cream—”

  “Do not call it that. It’s an insult to bananas. You could’ve warned me when I ordered it, you know,” she said.

  “What fun is that? If you’d have brought Brenna in to see me, I never would’ve let you get it, because you might’ve given her a bite.”

  “Good to know where I rate these days.”

  “Yep. What do you want instead?”

  “Cherry. I need a true classic to cleanse my palate. You did make the cherry yourself, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Just checking. I wouldn’t put it past you to keep bringing me shitty Hugh pie without comment just to watch me gag.”

  “He won’t spring for live entertainment, so I do what I can to pass the time, what can I say?”

  “When are you gonna buy this place? I mean he can’t hang on forever. He’s gotta be seventy,” she said.

  “He told me five years ago that he’ll quit when he’s seventy-two. That’s a little over a year from now, and I’ve been budgeting and saving to have the down payment scraped together by that time. It’ll be close. I had to dip into my savings when my furnace went out last year. That set me back four thousand dollars, which is a shit ton of money.”

  “Yeah, it is. I would’ve just started busting up furniture and burning it for warmth.”

  “Yeah, don’t ever let your brother hear you say that. He’s like Mr. Fire Safety.”

  “He gets it from our dad. Third generation fireman. We didn’t even get to have candles on our birthday cakes because it was ‘too risky.’”

  “I remember. You always pretended though. And blew on the cake anyway out of spite. Like, fine, no candle to make a wish on, but I’m gonna spit on this crap anyway.”

  “That’s me in a nutshell, babe,” she said with a grin. “Now get me some decent pie.”

  I glanced over my shoulder, “Give me a second.”

  “You can’t go to the counter because Max just came in? This is so middle school.”

  “I want to give them time to sit down. Their booth’s clear. Sadie likes the one in the corner because you can see the daffodils starting to bloom outside the library.”

  “So, if someone was in their booth what would you do? They don’t come in every day, do they?” Laura asked.

  “No, about once a week, usually Tuesdays,” I said.

  “But you don’t pay any attention to him, right? I mean, his comings and goings, where his kid likes to sit and why… it’s not like you’re obsessed or anything.”

  “I’m just being a good waitress, attentive to what my customers like.”

  “You’d throw some trucker bodily out of the diner if they were in that booth right now. Tell me I’m wrong.”

  “Not bodily. I’d just—offer them a free piece of pie if they’d switch tables. And then give them some banana cream,” I said with a grin.

 
“Right. Not calculating at all,” she raised an eyebrow. “Do you run into stuff and drop trays when he’s around? Because you haven’t taken your eyes off him.”

  “Shut the front door, Laura. I’m a professional. I don’t drop shit just because there’s an unusually hot man here with shaggy black hair and green eyes and the biceps and shoulders of an actual lumberjack.”

  “I’ll grant that he’s good-looking, but he’s a little too Hollywood for me. He may be a lumberjack, but he doesn’t have that rough-hewn, mountain man face. He’s too handsome. It distracts from the backwoods Paul Bunyan vibe he’s working.”

  “Maybe if he grew a beard,” I wondered aloud.

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you,” she laughed. “Tell him to grow a beard. It might rough him up a little, make him less of a pretty boy.”

  “He’s not a pretty boy,” I said, “he’s a woodchopper with an exceptionally handsome face. Like Brad Pitt and Ryan Gosling had a black-haired son.”

  “You know those are both men, right? I mean, do you know about the birds and the bees and how neither of those guys ovulates?”

  “Shut up. He’s sitting down. I’ve got to go get their order.”

  “What about my new pie?” she demanded. I shrugged.

  “I’ll get to it. These are paying customers.”

  I fixed my ponytail which was getting a little droopy after five hours at work and glided on over to their table. Max’s eyes were fixed on his six-year-old as she knelt at the window and pointed out the place where the flowers were starting to push up out of the soil.

  “Hey, Sadie-Lady, are they blooming yet?”

  “Nope,” she said. “But they will be soon. We just gotta keep watching them. You got any crayons?”

  “For you? You bet,” I said, taking the box of crayons out of my apron pocket for her. “I’ll be right back, just you hold on a sec.”

  I went back behind the counter and dug out the new coloring books I’d hidden in our stack of used ones we let customers’ kids color in.

  “LOL or Paw Patrol?” I asked, offering them to her. Her green eyes lit up.