It Started with a Pregnancy

by Christy Jeffries

  “Lunch sounds great. We can grab a bite to eat after we go to your appointment. Together.” He held up his keys. “Should we take your car or mine?”

  She did that sexy thing where she lowered her chin and tugged a corner of her lip between her teeth. Her hand gripped the driver’s door handle, looking as if she was ready to yank it open and jump inside to speed away. “Why don’t you just follow me?”

  “And risk having you ditch me at one of the intersections?” He gave her a wink before shaking his head. “No way.”

  “Fine.” She sighed then clicked a button on her keyless remote, electronically shutting the rear hatch of her car. “But get in quick and duck down so nobody can see you.”

  Grant tried not to smirk as he jogged around the front of the car to the passenger side. It was impossible for his six-foot-two frame to sink very low without jamming his knees into the glove box. Not that he would’ve actually hidden anyway. He understood that she didn’t want anyone knowing her personal business, but he’d be damned if he was going to continue playing the role of her dirty little secret. He said as much when she tore out of the parking lot, shooting up gravel as she fishtailed onto Little Creek Road.

  Rebekah made a slight chuckling sound. “That’d be a first.”

  “What would be?” Grant asked, finally getting his seat belt locked in.

  “You being my dirty little secret,” Rebekah said, the engine revving as she gained speed. “I would’ve thought it would be the other way around.”

  Something tingled along the edges of Grant’s nostrils and he tried not to sniff. “Why would you be the secret?”

  “Oh, come on, Grant. You’re the golden boy of the Whitaker family. I just work here.”

  Well, the fact that she worked for his aunts wasn’t the real problem bothering her right now. No, Grant heard what she wasn’t saying aloud—that he might not feel comfortable going public with their...fling? Relationship? He wasn’t really sure what to call their situation, but that wasn’t the issue. His only concern was her feelings and assuring her that he heard her. It didn’t matter how beautiful, intelligent or accomplished Rebekah was. There were always going to be some people who thought they shouldn’t be together because they were different. While he couldn’t deny that Rebekah’s feelings were likely the result of her own experiences, he also wanted her to know that he’d always been proud to be with her. “For the record, I have never thought of you as the hired help. In fact, I’m not the one who’s embarrassed to have people finding out about us.”

  “It’s not that I’m embarrassed about you.” Rebekah flicked her eyes at him before turning on her signal and pulling onto Spring Forest Boulevard. “It’s that I’ve worked really hard to become the director of an organization that does amazing things in the community. As a nonprofit, we’re governed by a different set of rules than regular corporations. That makes my job fall under more scrutiny when it comes to ensuring that everything stays aboveboard.”

  “So you’re saying dating me wouldn’t be aboveboard?”

  “First of all, we’re not dating.” Rebekah turned to him as her car idled at an intersection. Grant tried to ignore the pang of disappointment at her words, despite the fact that he’d been telling himself exactly the same thing these past several weeks, ever since their night together. “Second of all, as you know, there’s currently an attorney looking into some of your family’s past investments and I don’t want to risk any appearance of impropriety or otherwise suggest that there might be any conflicts of interest.”

  Ouch. He especially didn’t like the reminder that there were potentially some financial issues going on right now with his uncle Gator.

  The man had always been a financial whiz. That was why Birdie and Bunny had trusted him to manage the investments used to support their living expenses and the shelter’s overhead. Gator always seemed to know just how to deal with every shift in the market, using his intelligence and intuition to help his sisters and also to build his own personal fortune. But then something had gone wrong. Suddenly money wasn’t where it was supposed to be. When the storm hit Spring Forest and the shelter took heavy damage, the aunts discovered that Gator had let their insurance lapse and couldn’t provide a good explanation for where the money for the premiums had gone.

  The situation had seemed to get more tangled by the day, until the aunts had had no choice but to hire people to look into it. Now, Gator was nowhere to be found and some people in town were suggesting that Grant’s favorite uncle had gone missing to avoid being questioned about his alleged mismanagement.

  “Okay, obviously we’re not dating,” he readily agreed, trying to ignore the fact that there was a sour, mildew-type odor in this car that easily overpowered the scent of Rebekah’s flowery lotion. “I think we both made it pretty clear that night that we weren’t in the market for a serious relationship.”

  He certainly wasn’t—especially with someone who lived a two-hour flight away. The light turned green and Rebekah barely got out a nod before pulling forward, allowing Grant to continue.

  “However, with circumstances being what they are...” he glanced down to her still-flat stomach behind the seat belt “...don’t you think people are going to eventually find out that you’re pregnant?”

  She held up a finger. “If I am, in fact, pregnant. Remember, the doctor hasn’t officially confirmed it.”

  “Is there any reason to think you’re not?”

  The muscles in Rebekah’s toned arms stiffened as she gripped the wheel tighter. She opened her mouth as though to say something, then made a sniffing sound. “I’m not the only one who smells that, right?”

  The stench that had been slowly building inside the car was becoming unbearable, and Grant finally gave in and cracked a window. “Yes, I’ve been smelling it for the past five minutes but was hoping it was coming from outside.”

  She hit a switch and both of their windows whirred all the way down. Grant inhaled the fresh, warm air filtering in as Rebekah’s corkscrew curls whipped around her face. While lowering the windows improved things slightly, the scent still lingered.

  “It’s definitely coming from inside the car,” Rebekah said, pinching her nose as she slowed for a four-way stop. “What could it be?”

  “It reminds me of the time one of Aunt Birdie’s goats got into the henhouse and stomped on all the eggs before rolling around in chicken poop.”

  “But twenty times worse,” Rebekah said right before making a gagging sound.

  Just then a loud yip came from somewhere in the back of the car. Grant and Rebekah nearly butted foreheads as they whipped their necks around. A mangy animal with long gray fur covering its eyes poked its head up from the storage area in the very rear of the car. The thing growled low and deep, revealing tiny yellowed teeth, and its front legs were perched on the back seat as if it was about to leap over and attack. Grant held himself perfectly still and lowered his voice. “What in the hell kind of animal is that?”

  “I think it’s that stray dog that everyone has been trying to catch. Remember the one from last week that your aunt chased into the street? I’ve never seen it this close up, though, so I can’t be sure.”

  “What’s it doing in your car?” Grant asked.

  “How should I know? It must’ve jumped in when I left the back hatch open to argue with you in the parking lot.”

  “Okay, where is your extra leash?”

  Rebekah was also holding herself very still, which made her raised eyebrow even more prominent. “My extra what?”

  “My aunts always keep an extra leash and a few lengths of rope in their pickup truck for this exact reason. They say they never know when they’re going to come across an animal that needs help.”

  “Grant, just because I work at a pet rescue doesn’t mean I go driving around town looking for actual pets to rescue.”

  The dog growled again a
nd made a snapping motion, as if it was about to lunge at them. “Well, we probably shouldn’t stay in here with him. Or her. Let’s get out slowly and then I’ll call an animal control officer to come take him.”

  Rebekah nodded. “On the count of three, we’ll both get out at the same time.”

  Grant began the count. “One, two—” He didn’t make it to three because Rebekah was already out her door.

  “Oh, hell,” Grant said, following suit.

  Unfortunately, neither one of them realized that they’d left the windows down until the scruffy mutt launched himself over the back seat and leaped through the driver’s-side window. It made a strangled yelp as it landed awkwardly on its left hind leg before it began limping across the street.

  “Oh, no,” Rebekah took off after the dog, calling out over her shoulder. “The poor thing is hurt.”

  The animal must’ve been more afraid than injured because when it realized Rebekah was following, it hobbled even faster, past an iron gate that had been propped open and into the yard of one of the older stately homes on Second Street.

  Well, the home might’ve been stately at one time. It currently needed quite a bit of work involving a weed whacker, a few gallons of fresh paint and, Grant noted as he got closer, a new roof. Just as Rebekah was closing in on the scruffy pup, it found a hole in the base of the rotting porch and scurried underneath.

  Grant dropped to his knees in the dried-out hydrangea bush near the hole, but it was too dark to see how far back the crawl space went. He brushed the dirt off his hands as he looked up to Rebekah. “Do you have anything we can use to bribe him out?”

  Her eyes opened wider and she jogged back to the car without so much of a hint as to what she had planned.

  Grant swallowed his groan. The woman certainly had a habit of doing whatever she wanted and then filling him in on the details later.

  Chapter Four

  Rebekah stared at the shredded bakery bag in the rear of her car. Now she knew what had lured the stray dog into becoming a stowaway. She carried the empty muffin wrapper back to the porch where Grant remained on his knees, keeping watch.

  “I used to have an apple spice muffin in my tote bag, but I guess the dog already found it and had himself a picnic in the back of my car.”

  “Well, I’m more of a chocolate croissant kinda guy, but I can’t blame the mutt for getting his baked good fixes wherever he can find them.”

  Something wobbled inside of Rebekah’s knees. Sure, plenty of people liked chocolate croissants, but as far as she could tell, it was the first thing she and Grant had in common. In fact, she’d already had three croissants in the past week, but the bakery had been out of them this morning when she’d gone in to place her order. “I guess it’s a good thing that it wasn’t anything chocolate. I hear that it can make dogs really sick.”

  “You hear?” Grant lifted a brow at her.

  “I’ve never actually owned a dog,” Rebekah admitted, causing Grant to rock back onto his haunches so that he could stare at her in disbelief. “Don’t look at me like that. My dad is severely allergic to them. And to cats. I wasn’t able to have either growing up.”

  “But you work at an animal shelter.”

  “It’s not that I don’t like them or anything,” Rebekah defended herself, placing her hands on her hips. “I’m just not much of a pet person.”

  Grant’s lips lifted into a smirk. “I’m guessing this is another thing that you don’t want my aunts to know about.”

  “Well, I’m not walking around advertising that particular fact,” she said, trying to ignore his calculating gaze. Why did he always watch her as though he suspected she was hiding something? “Besides, your aunts didn’t hire me to be hands-on with the animals so my experience with them isn’t exactly a job requirement.”

  There was another growl from underneath the porch and Rebekah suddenly remembered why they were there in the first place. She held up the empty wrapper. “There’s a few crumbs still stuck on here, but he pretty much licked the thing clean.”

  Grant stood up. “Maybe we should knock on the door and ask the owner for a treat of some kind.”

  Rebekah glanced at the brick house that she drove by every time she came into downtown Spring Forest. There was a smashed window on the second floor and the front screen door hung crookedly on only one hinge. “I’m pretty sure the owner no longer lives here.”

  “That’s a shame. But it explains how the place has gotten so run-down.” Grant ran a hand through his blond hair. “I’ve driven by a few times and always thought that it was an eyesore on this block.”

  Rebekah gasped. “It’s not an eyesore. I mean, it could use a little bit of love and some elbow grease, but it has a ton of character. See the matching turrets that round off the front corners? None of the other mansions on this street have them. And the lot size is huge. Imagine if it had a new porch that extended all the way to here.” She took several steps back and spread her arms so he could better see her vision. “Then, if I tore that rotted iron fence down, I could add a few comfy benches and make a whole seating section out here and be able to talk to my neighbors and watch kids ride their bikes and...”

  Her face heated as she trailed off, mortified that she was practically admitting she’d dreamed about this particular home more than a few times—before she’d made the more practical decision to buy a smaller, more affordable townhome.

  “No, don’t stop,” Grant said, walking closer to her. His encouraging smile and broad shoulders beneath his faded T-shirt made Rebekah grow even warmer. “Would you keep the shutters and the door the same color?”

  She gulped. “I’d go with black for the shutters, but the front door I would paint a bold blue. Not quite royal blue, but not powder blue, either. Somewhere in between.”

  As he studied her, she realized she was describing the exact shade of his eyes. She shivered and tried to cover it with a shrug. “But none of that matters because it’s not like I’ll ever own this house.”

  “Why not?” Grant asked. There was genuine puzzlement etched into the lines on his brow and Rebekah wondered if the guy was ever told no. Ever told that he couldn’t have something he wanted.

  “For one...” She held up a forefinger and tried not to notice that she was overdue for a manicure. She’d read in an online pregnancy forum that the folic acid in prenatal vitamins caused the hair and nails to grow like crazy. “Even with the house in this condition, I probably can’t afford it on my salary. Second of all, if I’m having a baby, all of my money will be going for diapers and daycare and whatever else babies need. I won’t have anything left over for home improvement projects.”

  His arms crossed in front of his chest and his entire face shifted into a frown. “You realize I’m going to help support both you and the baby, right? That means not only emotionally but financially, too.”

  Grant was at least wearing a pair of sneakers today instead of his normal flip-flops. But she didn’t want to point out the fact that, judging by his wardrobe, she probably made more money than he did. A ring sounded from his back pocket, yet he ignored the beat-up cell phone and remained rooted in place as if he was waiting for her to respond to what he’d said.

  But Rebekah didn’t know what to say besides, “We should probably get to the doctor’s office.”

  Really, there was no point in discussing any of this before they knew if she actually was pregnant. And even if she was... Grant sounded like he seriously wanted to be a part of the child’s life, but Rebekah had a hard time believing it.

  If a man who had been with her for six years didn’t want to raise a child with her, then how could this man—who had only known her a few months—want to?

  While Grant wasn’t anything like her ex-boyfriend, Rebekah was also no longer like her young and naive self. She wasn’t about to wait around for him to get scared and leave first—especially
when her body couldn’t be trusted to not react every time he smiled at her.

  “Okay.” He nodded, dropping his arms to his sides. “But just so you know, we will be having a conversation afterward. And maybe we can pick up another muffin or a double cheeseburger or something on our way back to lure the dog out from his hiding spot.”

  Rebekah’s rib cage felt as if it were squeezing in on her. She cursed herself for going into work this morning to finish that grant proposal and for not taking an early lunch break. If only she’d slipped out of the office a few minutes before Grant had arrived, she could be doing this on her own, without his heavy stares and his weighty statements about taking care of her and the baby.

  Grant’s phone rang again when they got back into her car but he must’ve let the call go to voice mail because he didn’t so much as glance at the thing while Rebekah drove the next couple of blocks to Dr. Singh’s office.

  She pretended not to be paying attention, but clearly he was making a point of proving that he was completely focused on her and not on whoever was on the other end of that phone call. Unfortunately, the short ride would’ve been much more bearable if he’d been distracted.

  * * *

  Dr. Singh’s office was housed in another brick mansion on Second Avenue and the waiting room was decorated to resemble an old-fashioned parlor from the Victorian era. When Rebekah handed her insurance card over to the male receptionist, he smiled at Grant and asked, “This is Daddy, I presume?”

  Rebekah’s neck snapped to the velvet upholstered chaises and sofas in the small waiting room to see if the only other patient present had overheard. But the woman was struggling to keep a piece of fabric draped over her shoulder and finally threw the thing in the stroller beside her. When she met Rebekah’s gaze, the lady said, “Sorry for the show, but these nursing covers are a lot more trouble than they’re worth.”