Right. Mitch smelled deception, as distinct as dead skunk on a hot highway.
“What could you possibly have on your agenda that would keep you in Second Chance?” Mitch asked. The forecast called for sun, and the county snowplows had already been by to clear the highway passes.
“I’ve got a meeting.” Still smiling, Shane hovered on the stairs.
“A phone meeting?” Because no one came to Second Chance in February for a face-to-face. There was too much risk of being snowed in.
“You want to listen in, Kincaid?” Shane always pushed Mitch’s buttons.
Mitch clenched his jaw. “You’re telling me you have a job interview?”
The smile drained from Shane’s expression.
It drained right down the stairs on silent feet and jumped into Mitch’s veins.
Now Mitch was the one smiling. Harlan would be thrilled.
Or not.
There was something insincere about Shane’s expression. He liked being straight with people about as much as a rattler. There was definitely something else going on here.
Mitch’s smile hardened. “I hear the airport hotel in Boise is hiring.”
“You want me gone, don’t you?” Shane looked down his nose at Mitch.
“Absolutely.” On so many levels.
“Take Laurel to the doctor for me.” Shane ascended the stairs without so much as a creak of wood. “Her appointment is at one.” He didn’t wait for Mitch’s reply.
Could Shane really have a job interview? If it was true... If Shane got a job and left... The pressure to protect Gabby’s innocence, Harlan’s wishes, and Second Chance would be lifted. If Shane left, it might mean he and the Monroes would respect the status quo—one-year leases, perhaps even a stipend for a town doctor and handyman.
And if Laurel didn’t go to the doctor, she couldn’t be cleared to travel. If she was cleared to travel, she was heading back to Hollywood to protect that famous sister of hers, taking the red carpet–worthy dress with her.
Mitch locked his computer and stood. Darn right he had to drive Laurel to her appointment.
Except...
Mitch froze.
He and Laurel. He and Laurel and Gabby.
The drive to Ketchum was at least an hour each way. And he’d promised Gabby a trip to the bookstore. They’d be stuck in his SUV. Laurel and Gabby chattering away. Mitch with his jaw clenched.
But she’s grounded.
He could use that as an excuse. She’d argue and roll her eyes, but he’d hold firm. Mitch grabbed his jacket and hurried two doors down to the Bent Nickel.
Roy greeted him when he arrived, following Mitch to the woodstove. “Anybody packing up at the inn?”
“No.” Mitch spotted Gabby in the back.
Roy sighed and shook his head. “That’s a shame.”
Mitch nodded. It was a shame. But maybe Shane would get a new job today. Maybe he’d leave tomorrow. “I’m going down the mountain. Anyone need anything?” Mitch had no time for coffee. He stuffed a couple bucks in the coffee jar anyway.
“You can get most anything delivered nowadays.” Odette sat at the counter. Her gaze tried to penetrate Mitch’s. “Everything except doctors. If you haven’t noticed, we need one here in town.” The spry old woman slid off the bar stool and headed for the door, scowling at the lot of them as she shoved her arms in her thick green jacket. “Do you know I haven’t seen a doctor in weeks?”
Roy took that as his cue. “How goes the search for a new doc?”
“Don’t ask,” Mitch mumbled. His inbox was woefully empty of inquiries.
“Why are you headed down the mountain?” Ivy called from the kitchen.
“Don’t ask.” Mitch turned to the back corner of the diner.
Eli Garland presided over several tables shoved together. He ran the homeschool program, and instead of meeting with kids for only an hour or two a week, the teacher made himself available most weekday mornings at the diner. There were a lot of kids in attendance today since the roads had been plowed. They were mostly silent, working on tablets or laptops, scribbling on lined paper or coloring in workbooks.
Gabby sat in a corner, head bent behind her laptop screen. “Hey, Dad,” she said when she noticed Mitch. “I know I said I’d come right back after my test, but Mr. Garland reviewed my notes on my history paper and now I’m knee-deep in it.” She glanced up at Mitch with attention-glazed eyes, which was preferable to the contemptuous way she’d looked at him in the past forty-eight hours. “Would you mind if I stayed here?”
Gabby wore a blue knit cap with white puppies knit in the brim. Her hair hung in two simple braids. No makeup had been applied. No eye rolls executed.
There’s my girl.
“School is priority one.” Relief flooded him. “I’m going down the mountain. I’ll be back by dinner. When you’re done here—”
“I’ll go straight to my room.” Her gaze returned to her computer screen.
Mitch turned and headed toward that door.
That was easy, he told himself as he walked back to the inn, feeling unsettled once more.
In his experience, things that came too easily—like unbelievable real estate deals and one-dollar leases—never turned out well.
* * *
THE ONLY ACTING role Laurel had mastered was the impersonation of her sister.
And now Shane wanted her to cover for him with Mitch.
Feeling like an imposter about to be caught, Laurel descended the creaky staircase of the Lodgepole Inn, feet strapped in her new snow boots, arms encased in a new thick jacket. Overheated, she balked midway down.
“Feeling okay?” Mitch stood at the check-in desk. He wore blue jeans, a gray polo, a heavy blue jacket and a concerned expression.
“I’m feeling...” Like a liar. Panic had her swaying on the step. She clutched the handrail. “Where’s Shane?”
“Didn’t he tell you?” The concern in his eyes disappeared, replaced by a shadow of suspicion. Mitch grabbed a set of car keys. “I’m driving you to your doctor’s appointment.”
Only if she let him. Laurel remained in the middle of the stairs.
The inn was quiet. Sophie and the boys were upstairs, as planned. Shane was elsewhere, as planned. Had Zeke been around, he’d have been talking. He wasn’t around, either. Was he in on it, too?
Mitch wasn’t meeting her gaze. Was he still upset about Gabby and the dress? Or did he know Shane was manipulating him?
Probably both.
This was an important day for Laurel. Doctor’s appointment. Lab work. Sonogram. And if things went well, she’d have no excuse not to call her family, not to go home.
The world tilted. Today of all days, Laurel wanted to avoid Shane-induced drama with Mitch. She gripped the handrail and proceeded down the stairs. “I can drive myself.” If Shane had left the keys inside his Hummer.
With a sigh, Mitch gently took hold of her elbow as she passed the check-in desk. “How much experience do you have driving on the snow and ice?”
“None.” She shouldered her black leather hobo bag. “I’m used to gridlock traffic, not snow.”
There was a flash of kindness in his eyes, causing a twinge of guilt in her belly. “Really. I’m happy to drive you.”
The banter. The teasing. The empathy.
Baby noticed it all.
“Does anyone resist those kind eyes, Counselor?” she mumbled, feeling her resolve crumble.
“No,” Mitch said with a bewildered half smile. His confusion didn’t slow him down. He opened the door and ushered Laurel to the porch. “Life would be easier if people would just do what I wanted them to.”
That was a statement best left to argue on another day. This one was beautiful.
The winter weather in Second Chance was fairly predictable—temperatures around freez
ing, gusty wind and snow. The wind was always frigid and rushed down the mountain as if trying to steal her breath. When it was snowing, the sky was a gunmetal gray. When it wasn’t snowing, the sky was blue and the clouds were big and fluffy and seemed almost close enough to touch.
It wasn’t snowing today. The sun glittered off snow-covered mountains and tall, snow-dusted pines. It’d been snowing so long she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen such a clear blue sky.
Laurel stumbled coming down the steps and stopped gawking at the world around her and watched her footing. She needed to watch her footing with Mitch, too. That didn’t stop her from asking, “Why did you move to Second Chance?”
Mitch was ahead of her. He stopped walking and turned to consider Laurel’s question or perhaps to consider if he wanted to broach such a personal topic with her. His breath came out in visible puffs. His dark hair contrasted against the eight-foot snowbank behind him, which glittered in the sunlight as if frosted with diamonds.
“I was disillusioned with the legal profession,” he admitted, his words carefully chosen, reluctance in the deliberate cadence of delivery. “And my...marriage.”
She wasn’t going anywhere near the M-word or disillusionment at work, but curiosity got the better of her. “Are you originally from Idaho? Had you been here before?”
He shook his head. “I’m from Chicago. And I...” His dark gaze pierced hers, searching for something, although she wasn’t sure what it could be. After a moment, he continued, “I’d had a bad day. I went into this coffee shop downtown, an out-of-the-way dive.” His story picked up momentum. “And I couldn’t bring myself to look at a newspaper headline or what was trending in the news. So to keep my mind off... To keep my mind occupied, I picked up one of those real estate pamphlets and there—on page two—was the Lodgepole Inn.” He glanced fondly over his shoulder at the log structure. “Looking much like the way it does today, except it was for sale.”
Laurel was surprised he’d shared so much, and hoped he’d keep going. “How old was Gabby when you moved here?”
“Six months. She’s never known any place but Second Chance.” His lips sealed closed, a sure sign he thought he’d said too much.
Laurel shoved her hands deeper in her jacket pockets, warmed by the personal information he’d revealed. “We better get moving if I’m going to show up for my appointment on time.”
He nodded and led her to a forest green SUV parked nearby. Someone had instilled manners in him. He opened the passenger door for her and plunked a water bottle in the center console. “You need to stay hydrated.”
“Baby is grateful.” Although that sounded ungrateful. She waited to say more until he sat behind the wheel next to her. “If I drink too much water, I’ll need a pit stop.”
“Welcome to your new reality.” Mitch backed the SUV out and headed down the highway, taking the road that branched south. “You’ve got to think about Baby now.”
Did he realize he’d used the name she’d given the little one growing inside her? “Trust me. I’ve been thinking of little else since I found out I was pregnant.”
“Of course. My bad.” Mitch slowed as they approached a turn. “You’ve been wondering how to up your protein intake, eat more greens and stay hydrated.”
“Sarcasm.” Laurel shook her head. “That would seem to indicate you haven’t forgiven me the dress-modeling incident, Counselor.” Shoot, she hadn’t meant to bring that up.
“I’d forgotten how important keeping the peace is for you, Miss Laurel.” He slid her a considering look and an almost smile. “What’s my forgiveness worth?”
Excitement fluttered in her chest as if he was flirting with her, which she knew could not possibly be true. “I hadn’t realized such a thing was for sale.” Really, the man was full of surprises.
“The price of my forgiveness is honesty.”
Laurel’s fingers tingled with apprehension. But it could have been because she’d looked right as they rounded the bend and couldn’t see the ground.
Baby doesn’t like heights.
“I think I was honest with you the other night,” she said absently.
“And I’d appreciate that same honesty moving forward.”
“Sure.” Softball-size snowballs tumbled to the road from the ridge above them. Laurel was suddenly glad she hadn’t attempted to drive alone. “Are we in any avalanche danger?”
“I’d never say never. The mountains are unpredictable.”
Laurel gripped the door handle with one hand and pressed her stomach with the other.
Mitch marked her look of horror with a shake of his head. “What? I thought we were being honest.”
“I think I’d prefer you lie to me.” She sucked in air, feeling familiar heat originate in her belly, burn through her chest and flame into her ears. “Or I might be sick.”
She might be sick anyway.
“Drink some water and talk to me.” He handed her the water bottle.
“About what?” She sucked down several gulps of water.
“Tell me about your boyfriend.”
“Uh... No boyfriend.”
Mitch made a disapproving noise deep in his throat. The noise of a father of a young girl who didn’t want her to make the same mistakes Laurel had.
She wasn’t going to expand on the fact that this was an unplanned oops. Or how complicated her impending oops was. “Women—and men—raise kids by themselves all the time. Take you. Exhibit A.”
“But the father knows about Baby, right?” Occasional kind eyes aside, Mitch was too perceptive, too dogged in his pursuit of information.
“He’ll know soon.” She forced herself to sound committed to the fact.
They reached the top of one mountain and began their descent. Laurel’s cell phone began to ping with messages.
From Mom.
Come home. Ashley’s publicist thinks it’s the perfect time to go out with Wyatt a second time before he starts his next film. We haven’t had much good buzz about Ashley since New Year’s Eve.
When Laurel had gone out with Wyatt.
From Ashley.
We need to talk.
Is Ashley okay? Does she need me?
Laurel would’ve once dropped everything to call her twin. Today she sent her a simple text.
I’m not ready to talk.
Laurel shoved the phone back in her purse.
“Bad news?”
Her phone pinged again. And again. Her mother must have noticed she’d read her message. She was probably sending all kinds of arguments about why Laurel should hightail it home.
Ping. Ping. Ping-ping.
Mom was an incredibly fast texter.
“Who is that?” Mitch asked. “Someone has a lot to say.”
“It’s my mom.” Panic had Laurel chugging breath like a freight train trying to pull too many cars up a steep hill. “Once my mom gets involved with Baby... She’ll take everything out of my hands.” Laurel pressed her palm against her stomach. She didn’t want her mother to orchestrate her pregnancy.
“Are you okay?” Mitch asked.
“No. I...I...I need some time...” The world rose up in a white haze and closed in around her. “No one’s going to give me space. Everyone’s going to be upset and there is nothing...” She gulped. “Nothing I can do about it.”
Mitch glanced at Laurel and slowed to a stop—right there in the middle of the narrow highway!
Laurel’s heart raced. Her lungs were playing like an accordion accompanying a speedy yodeler. Her head felt light. “Ignore me. I chirp when I stress.”
“You need to slow down,” he said.
Not literally. Not to a stop.
“What are you doing?” Laurel choked out, glancing over the thin snowbank that separated them from a cliff. Growing up in California, you learned not to stop on
the highway. Ever. “Someone’s going to—” pant-pant “—come down this hill—” gasp-gasp “—and hit us.” Her last words rode out of her mouth on a whine of air. She had more than her safety to think of. She had Baby to think of. “I should never have let Shane talk me into this.”
Mitch undid his seat belt, turned in his seat.
“Relax and fill your lungs with air. Baby needs oxygen.”
He was right, of course. But... “Baby needs a safer place to stop. Drive, please.”
“Not until Baby gets air. That’s why I’m telling you to breathe, honey. I can’t do it for you.”
Mitch was being nice. Baby liked nice. Baby liked nice a lot.
Laurel bent and put her head between her knees. Mitch was being nice to her, his voice gentle. She’d bet his gaze would be filled with kindness, just as it had been when she’d first arrived in Second Chance. Tense pregnant women—she’d read on a blog—were susceptible to kind men. They took advantage of said men’s kindness, laid their heads on said men’s strong shoulders and let their guards down.
Laurel’s eyes filled with tears and she sucked back a gasp, trying not to let her guard down. “Being pregnant is hard.” And scary, since she was going it alone. “Pregnancy is harder than knitting with patience and precision.”
Mitch rubbed her back and said nothing, possibly because she wasn’t making sense.
The wind rocked the SUV.
Laurel held her breath and clenched her prickling hands.
“Breathe. Don’t panic.”
“I. Never. Panic.” She was the one who people called when they panicked. “How can...you be...so calm? And why aren’t we moving?” She was a woman on a ledge, dangling on a precipice when she knew at any moment this sham of a peaceful life would crumble and she’d tumble over the edge.
Sorry, Baby.
“We just came over the summit.” Mitch’s hands moved back to his side of the SUV. “The air is thin up here. That can make people feel light-headed and numb.”
There was a reason for her body to feel this way?
Snowed in with the Single Dad Page 9
