Laken had to laugh. “No. Though he does have this habit of putting peanut butter on both pieces of bread before he puts on the jam.”
“Well, thank God you’ll be saved a lifetime of hell. Run away now. It’s clear the man is a monster.”
“Screw you.” Laken looked at the floor, raking fingers through the hair that used to be so short but was at one of those awful in-between stages. “My hair. It’s a wreck.”
“Pretty sure that’s fixable,” Jeanette said drily. “What else you got?”
“Three…weeks. You can’t make a dress in three weeks.”
“Well, I can’t if I don’t get your measurements. So let’s see: scary peanut butter habits, bad hair—” Jeanette was ticking off items on her fingers. “No dress.” Then she met Laken’s gaze head on. “No guts. And absolutely not a lick of sense. Anything else too horrible to contemplate?”
“It’s not funny,” Laken whispered.
Jeanette sat down beside her. “It’s not. I know you’re scared. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Laken tensed. “My parents once thought they loved each other, but it didn’t last. They made my life hell—still would, if I’d let them.”
“And all these happy couples in Sweetgrass never fight. Never get mad. Never say stupid things to each other. Do you know I told Walker just this morning that he was a moron because he let Maisie con him into another dog?”
Laken smiled. “Divorce court, definitely.”
“Jackson and Veronica had to wait nearly twenty years to be together. Ian nearly lost Scarlett forever in childbirth. Gordon and Sophia did split up. There are no guarantees, Laken. Love doesn’t come with a money-back guarantee. You have to work at it, every single day. Michael isn’t worth some work?”
“Of course he is. But he doesn’t need any work. He’s perfect.”
“Peanut butter,” Jeanette reminded her.
“Per-fect,” Laken enunciated. “But I’m not. I’m hard to live with.”
“Yeah, poor Ajax looks so unhappy. And Michael hardly ever smiles. You are such a witch. You should leave town immediately.”
“I can’t—” Laken’s voice caught, and she rested one hand on her still-flat belly. “There’s a baby now. Who deserves everything good.”
“Is it that you don’t want to be a mother?”
Laken’s head whipped around. “I want to be the best mother in the universe—” Her eyes filled. “But what if I can’t?”
“You’ll screw up sometimes,” Jeanette said. “Do you think Scarlett has never raised her voice to Georgia? Or yelled at Ian? You think Bridger doesn’t want to throw Penny off a bridge sometimes because she’s so hardheaded? And I know you’ve seen Rissa yell at Mackey. But you know what they do? They work it. Every day. Some days they get mad or tired or worried, and everything’s not all sunshine and roses. But they get up every day and go at it again, trying their best but being human.” Her voice softened. “Has it ever occurred to you that you might be a really good mom precisely because you know what not to do? That you and Michael might still have tough times, but that you’re not a wimp and neither is he, so you don’t give up?” She paused. “Think about what life was like before Michael. Was it better? Richer? More fun?”
“No. It was—I was—”
“Lonely?”
She glanced over. “Were you?”
“You better believe it. I thought my life would always be waitressing at the café and watching other people live the life I wanted. I sure never expected Walker—or Maisie. I…sometimes I still get scared.”
“Why?”
“Because love is terrifying. Because it’s scary to care this much. Need this much. Anything could happen.” Jeanette bit her lip.
“So what do you do?”
“Some days I get crazy, worrying. But then I see Walker pass through a room, and I can’t breathe for what he makes me feel. So I try very hard to focus on that moment, that day. I watch Maisie play with her puppy and listen to Walker miss chords and cuss while he’s composing a new song. I hear his voice singing, and I look around my tiny house that’s bursting at the seams and I get so scared of losing it all that I’m about ten seconds from freezing, but—the love. It draws me away from the fear. It’s this great big warm blanket that wraps around me and it’s big enough to wrap around this family I love so much, so I hug Maisie and I kiss Walker and sit in his lap and I try really, really hard to believe that nothing bad will happen, but—”
“Sometimes it does.”
“Sometimes it does. But you don’t quit. Because if you do, what was the point of your miracle? If all this love is right there waiting for you to accept it, what kind of idiot would give it up and run away?” Jeanette met her gaze squarely. “You’re not a quitter, Laken, and you’re not a total idiot.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“You’re being an idiot right now, but that’s not who you really are. You’re too hardheaded to be such a coward. Jump over those doubts. Kick the crap out of that mound of worry and scatter it in every direction. You can embrace the fear or you can embrace the love and the joy. You can kiss the socks off that man, and you can press your palm against the belly that contains physical evidence of the love that man has brought into your life.” She paused. “Yeah, you could give up and run away. But you can’t stop time. And you can’t expect that wonderful man to live in limbo forever. That’s cruel. Michael doesn’t deserve cruelty, does he?”
“Am I? Cruel to him?” The idea made her chest hurt.
“Holding him at arm’s length all the time for fear something bad will happen? It will happen, Laken, if you keep giving this love half-measures. I don’t really think half-measures is your style. And no, you can be bitchy, but I don’t believe you have a cruel heart.”
Laken stared off into the distance and thought about all the times Michael had smiled at her so openly, had held his arms wide, had been so ready to embrace her and all her insanities.
“I don’t know why he loves me. If I could just understand why. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Love doesn’t care about logic. Love just is. It’s a gift to the receiver and the giver both. Could you stop loving Michael if you wanted to?”
Laken felt a huge dark pit open, and she hastily backed away from the mere thought of life without Michael’s smiles, his off-key whistling, his easy manner, his tender and thrilling touch.
Then she remembered the shadows in his eyes when she would hesitate, when she gave only part of herself—
Just as her parents had done. All her life she’d felt starved for their love. Needed them so badly.
Michael needed his love returned. And she was slowly starving him. “Oh. My. God.” She pressed fingers to her forehead, horror sweeping over her. “I’ve been doing to him what my parents did to me.” She turned to Jeanette. “All the times he’s only wanted me to love him back the way he—” She closed her eyes. “And he hasn’t given up on me yet. He hasn’t left. Not even when I’m withholding myself from him. Oh, Jeanette—I have to go find him. I have to tell him—” She jumped up and raced to the door.
There she halted. “Can I come by later and let you measure me? I promise I won’t be long—”
Jeanette smiled. “Tomorrow is soon enough. You go be with Michael.”
“Thank you.” She heaved a breath of gratitude. “Seriously, thank you, Jeanette. I just…I didn’t see this. How’d you get so wise?”
“I’ve always been wise. Just some people don’t listen. And Laken—”
“Yeah?” Laken jittered with impatience.
“I won’t say anything to anyone yet, but tomorrow—we’d best get this show on the road.”
Laken’s stomach flipped but this time it was excitement bubbling through her. “A Christmas wedding. In three weeks.” She shook her head. “We’re gonna need help. Because he won’t want to elope, will he? He’ll want the whole kit and caboodle.” She felt her face stretching in a smile that felt the best she’d felt
in…forever. “He’s a romantic.”
“He is. A good kind of man to have, don’t you think?”
“Oh, yeah.” Laken closed her eyes and wished she could just wink herself to his side. “I gotta go.”
“Take off. You’ll have the help you need. There’s a whole town just itching to get started.”
A whole town. A home. Her home, hers and Michael’s.
Laken started laughing. “This is the craziest place—” Then she was off like a shot.
Jeanette was laughing as she left.
Chapter Five
Gavin found himself whistling as he traveled nearly-deserted downtown streets at eight o’clock on Saturday morning. He’d seen her puzzlement, felt her body respond to his. She wanted to fight what she felt, but she was attracted, he was certain.
Not that she would like it one bit, of course. Ms. Stephanie Hargrove was far too accustomed to ordering men about, to calling the shots. One glimpse of those stunning legs, and a man could go blind simply from that. She used her sexuality as a weapon, as a barrier to protect a heart he was ever more certain needed care.
Not that she was The One, of course. No, his ideal woman was still out there somewhere, and he would keep looking.
But in the meantime, he could help her, this hard-edged woman who had likely never cared for a houseplant, much less gardened. She probably lived on take-out. As for baking bread…the mere image of Stephanie Hargrove with flour dusting her apron and her hands buried in dough…
That made him laugh out loud.
He was quite clearly insane, of course, for getting involved. Between his inability to resist a challenge and his weakness for strays, he was, as his mama often told him, a lost cause.
But Stephanie most definitely needed someone to be kind to her, to teach her that her cynicism was misplaced. That there were men with whom she could be real, men she could trust.
He wouldn’t let himself go too far, however. To get caught up in a woman like her would be insanity, pure and simple. He might be soft in the head, but he wasn’t an idiot. Yes, he felt more alive around her, on the edge of his seat to see what on God’s green earth she would do next. She was few things he wanted and many he did not.
But she was damn sure never boring.
He chuckled again as he parked his truck in the deserted entertainment district, unloaded not only his tools but a sack of groceries. He’d been up for hours, but he’d bet his granny’s soul Stephanie was still sleeping, so he’d come prepared not only to fix her faucet but to feed her as well.
He pressed her buzzer once, then again with no answer. He set down his toolbox, already peering around him for pebbles to toss at her window again.
“Oh, hell, it’s you,” came the irritated voice from the speaker. “Do you know what time it is?”
Gavin grinned. “Buzz me up, sugar. I come bearing breakfast.”
“I don’t eat breakfast,” she muttered.
But she hit the button.
Steph unlocked the door, then sank back into the nearest chair and curled up, already back half-asleep.
Gavin strode through it seconds later, whistling.
She muttered and refused to open her eyes. “Go away.”
“Now, darlin’…”
She could feel, actually feel the insufferable man grinning at her. She picked up the pillow beside her and covered her face with it. “I can’t believe you have the nerve to show up at, what, dawn?”
“It’s hardly dawn. I’ve been up for hours.”
She threw the pillow in the direction of his voice.
Something heavy rattled, then thumped on the floor. Footsteps sounded, along with something being set on her counter. She curled in more tightly on herself and wished just then that she’d thought to grab a blanket. It was freaking cold, and she only wore a camisole and boxers.
More footsteps, then a blanket settled over her. He even tucked it in around her legs, then pressed a kiss to her hair. “Sweet dreams,” he murmured.
Then the blasted man started humming.
Steph dragged the blanket over her head and tried to shut him out, but how on earth did you ignore a very large man clomping around your apartment, even if the tune he was singing was quite lovely?
Then the coffee grinder kicked in.
“I hate you,” she shouted.
“Hm? Did you say something?”
I’m going to kill him. Dead. Worse than dead. As Steph plotted the ways she could make Gavin die a slow, painful death, he blithely continued humming and clomping, pausing to chuckle now and again…
Then she smelled the coffee.
And whimpered.
Another chuckle.
Steph was torn between plotting…and pleading.
Coffee won. “Please…” She stuck one arm out from beneath the blanket.
“In a bit. Anything good is worth the waiting. Not good to rush things.”
“Gimme.”
She heard him approach. Then…nothing.
Her eyelids fluttered. The suspense was killing her. “Well?”
The blanket was peeled back. Gavin sank to his haunches, blue eyes alight with humor and a trace of pity. “Not a morning person, are you?”
“Coffee. I’m begging.”
His smile widened. “And what would be the magic word?”
“I said please already.”
“So you did.” He swooped in for a quick kiss on her nose. Then he proffered a mug that smelled absolutely heavenly, holding it still out of reach. “Would this be what you’re whimpering about?”
“I don’t whimper.” Much.
“Oh, darlin’, I beg to differ. Now what, a man has to wonder, would a creature in such dire straits be willing to give in exchange?”
“It’s too early for sex.”
A quick flash of very white teeth. “Oh my…you certainly are out of sorts, aren’t you? It’s never too early for sex—but that wasn’t what I meant.”
“You’re going to make me beg.”
“Not exactly…beg…”
“I did say I hate you, right?”
“That you did. But I know it’s simply that you’re out of sorts like a cranky child.”
And all the while, the delectable scent of that coffee was wafting into her nostrils.
“You don’t really mean you hate me.”
“I might.”
“No, you don’t. And lucky for you, my price is quite simple and easily met. A simple Good Morning, Gavin, that’s it.”
“Good morning, Gavin,” she droned.
“Did I mention that a little enthusiasm would help?”
“You’re annoyingly chipper in the mornings, aren’t you?”
He grinned unrepentantly. “That I am.”
“Good thing we’re never having sex. I’d have to boot you out during the night or kill you at dawn.”
“That, sugar buns, is another discussion altogether. I’ve made my conditions clear.” His smile was cocky and completely unruffled as he cupped one hand behind his ear. “Now I don’t believe I heard you properly the first time.”
“Good morning, Gavin,” she said through gritted teeth.
Then she threw off the blanket and uncurled herself. “Good morning, Gavin.” Her voice rose as she did, and he stood, too. She walked right up to where her feet touched his boots. “Good morning, Gavin,” she shouted, her teeth bared in a grimace.
He smiled. “Could still use some work to convince me of your sincerity, but I’m a merciful man.”
She snatched the mug and growled, then walked around him toward her bathroom.
Once inside, she slammed the door, took a healthy swallow and leaned back against the wood as her taste buds danced over the best cup of coffee she’d had in…ever.
Steph slowly slid down the door, settled on the floor and indulged herself.
“You all right in there?” Gavin asked from the other side.
“Go away. I’m having a religious experience,” she answered. She sipped
again and closed her eyes in ecstasy.
On the other side of the wood, Gavin grinned.
And tried not to think about how she looked in those skimpy pajamas.
“Take your time, darlin’.”
Steph smiled into her cup. “I intend to.”
“Hey, man, how’s it going?” Bridger Calhoun greeted Michael.
“Fine,” answered Michael in a flatter tone than normal. He was packing up his vet bag after checking over one of the horses.
Bridger’s brows rose. “Trouble in paradise? Congrats on the baby, by the way. I just heard.”
“Thanks. I imagine we’ll be coming to see you in your professional capacity sometime soon.”
“I hope not. I’ve done my share of emergency deliveries, but that will make an old man of you.” Bridger grinned, lifting his son JJ out of the backpack carrier. “The little dude is making me old before my time already.” His grin said the opposite, however.
“He’s looking healthy. How’s it going, JJ? Give me five?”
The black-haired one-year-old with his dad’s amber eyes gave Michael a toothy grin. “Five!” he crowed. His little palm met Michael’s.
“Good man!” Michael wondered if they’d have a boy or a girl, though he didn’t care. As long as the baby was healthy and Laken made it through the delivery fine, he’d have it all.
“What’s up?” Bridger asked. “Laken feeling okay so far?”
“Besides spending most evenings throwing up her toenails? She seems okay.”
“How are the wedding plans coming along?”
“What wedding plans?” He had gotten his hopes up when she’d said yes, but lately…
“Oh.” Bridger shook his head. “Man, I feel for you. Been there. Got the t-shirt. It sucks. But you have an edge—you got your woman knocked up.”
“Don’t let her hear you say that.”
“I thought she’d decided to get married.”
“Me, too. Then she started crab-walking sideways.” Michael looked at the ground. “If I’d hauled her off to the JP the second she said yes, we’d be set, but stupid me, I wanted to marry her in front of the whole world. We have so many friends here and family, and I wanted them to be part of it, but—”
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