by Kristi Rose
"I believe I'll call bull crap on that."
"Question is, why are you here? Don't you own a diner down the way?"
"I can go wherever I please."
"So can I."
"So much for the whole ‘we're family’ nonsense you were talking about this morning. If I went to another construction company, you'd lose your mind."
Briefly, Jared hung his head. When he looked back at her, his eyes twinkled. "Would you buy that I believe in supporting small businesses?"
She wanted to continue with the ribbing, but to be honest, the mood was gone. Who was this guy that hung out at Lorelei's diner? How often did he come? Enough that Andee knew how he liked his coffee.
Everything she thought she knew about Jared suddenly seemed wrong. Yes, being upset with him was stupid and unreasonable. He wasn't hers. He wasn't hiding a secret life or anything. Yet, when she looked into his laughing green eyes, it was obvious she'd been naive where Jared was concerned. She'd been a fool to believe she was a large part of his life like he was hers. She wanted to bang her head on the counter for being so stupid to think she knew all of Jared. That the times he'd come around her house or the diner or the Sunday dinners she still shared with his family was the sum of his life.
"It doesn't matter. I'm just giving you a hard time." She turned the conversation back to business. "When I left this morning, your brother and a few other guys were fixing the door to the house. Thanks."
He slid into the seat next to hers and turned to face her, his hand resting on his upper thigh. "I'll come by later to make sure it meets my standard. Did the insurance guy come already?"
She nodded. "Apparently, the back room was wired improperly, and so it's likely the other rooms that were updated were as well."
Jared gave a low whistle. "I'll get my electrician out there at the latest tomorrow. He'll figure it out, and then we'll know what to do."
Melinda could only stare at him, words of disapproval stuck in her throat. She simultaneously loved and hated it when he used the plural "we" when referring to her life. She wanted him to stop, but couldn't bear to tell him that.
"That's if you want my company to do the work. I'm giving you a good deal since you’re family and all. But I can respect your need to get a second opinion."
She shook her head. "I'm good." It was such a relief not to have to juggle the construction aspect, as well. She'd held off canceling her inter-uterine insemination appointment in hopes that something might go her way, and coping with that alone was taking all she had.
"Good. You should eat those hotcakes before they get cold." He plucked a berry off the stack and tossed it in his mouth.
"Thanks, Jared," she said, tears threatening to break free.
He moved his arm to rest along the back of her chair and leaned over, placing a soft kiss on her temple. "I got your back, Melly. Let me take care of you."
Lord knows she wanted to lean into him and let him carry the burden. Even for a small amount of time. But her head told her heart to stop being so foolish. That depending on him made her weak and gave people the wrong idea about them. The last thing she wanted was for the gossips to natter on about her going through the sons of the Calhoun clan. Jared, or Keith for that matter, didn't deserve to be talked about like that simply because they were friends with her.
Reeling from it all, afraid her need for him and desire to be rescued was written across her face, Melinda asked for a box for her food.
"You leaving so soon?" Andee asked as she loaded the pancakes into a container.
Melinda nodded. "I have a lot to do. Call me about this weekend, Andee."
"Sure thing, hon." Andee said with a wink. "Lorelei made a to-go bag for you already." Andee placed the container into a cute brown sack with rope handles and handed it over. Melinda peered into the bag loaded with a plethora of comfort found in bakery items.
"Hey. You all right?" Jared grabbed her hand.
She looked at his hand covering hers and gave his a squeeze. "I'll see you tomorrow." She slid her hand from his and left the diner.
With nowhere else to go, she was forced to head home and face her current crisis once again. As she inspected the makeshift back door, the soot-covered back wall of her house, and the water damage, it took every bit of discipline not to eat the entire contents of the bag Lorelei had sent with her. Chances were high she'd follow up the bingeing with a good cry and end it by rocking in a ball.
Instead, she pressed a fresh batch of white coffee, shipped from the Pacific Northwest, turned it into an iced delight, and curled up on her porch swing with a good book. She didn't want to go inside and turn on a light, afraid she'd ignite another fire. She didn't want to think about everything that needed to be done or Jared's offer to help. In all her days, the highs and lows of marriages and break ups, she'd never felt as alone as she did at this moment. Yes, she had her parents, and even Jared's parents, but she didn't have that one person who would hold her when the sun went down and love away her fears.
HE'S THE ONE
CHAPTER THREE
He was a fool. Actually, he'd always been one when it came to Melinda Bane, and the older he got, the more foolish he became. One simple remark from his may-not-be-bright-but-astutely-observant brother, Keith, about how sad she'd looked today, and Jared had jumped in his truck and drove to her house. He'd use any excuse to rescue the overly self-reliant woman, and this was the best opportunity to show her she could count on him.
Never mind he had bids to finish or that he was balls tired and had been looking forward to watching a game on TV. Nope, if there was even the slightest chance he might get Melinda to see him as something other than Lance's brother, he was going to take it. He'd always had a predilection for blond buxom bombshells, and Melinda was no different. Oh hell, who was he kidding? His affinity was for Melinda only—all the others were just poor imitations.
Jared pulled his truck along the curb a few houses down from Melinda's and watched her sit in the fading sun, staring out at nothing.
Thankful he'd had the wherewithal to assemble a game plan of sorts, he'd managed to interrupt his mad drive over with a stop at a Chinese takeout. Grabbing the bags of food and a fire extinguisher he'd picked up earlier, he then made his way to her porch.
"You do know that you can turn on the lights. The house isn't going to explode." He rested one foot on the first step and hoped she'd hear the jesting in his voice.
She didn't startle, just swung her weary gaze to him. "You don't know that. I thought the same thing last night when I turned on the light to the sunroom and sparks shot out of the outlet."
"I brought protection." He held up the extinguisher. "Come on, let's go live dangerously."
"That's not funny. This is my house, Jared. I don't want it to burn down." She didn't even raise her voice.
The fight in her was gone, and that's when Jared realized things were worse then he had thought. Emotional toughness was a part of who she was. Determination was what he'd come to expect from her and admired. Hell, it was one of the things he loved about her.
"Melinda, if you want, I can turn off some of the lines that feed into the part of the house you're worried about. My gut would be the laundry room and maybe your bathroom. But you've got enough natural light in the day to not need it, and tonight we can set up battery-operated lights to get you by. My electrician will be here tomorrow to get to the bottom of it."
"Would you, please? I'd feel better."
He nodded and climbed up on the porch. "Here, feel like some food? You can get this set up while I take a look at the fuse box."
She jumped up and smiled. "Thanks."
It took less than five minutes to power off her areas of concerns, and when he came into the dining room, she'd set the table with small hurricane lamps, dishes, and the food.
"You're OK with candles? Open fire?" He gestured to the lamps.
"Yeah, I feel like I can control those. Want a beer?" She
was smiling, and he was immensely pleased he had something to do with that.
"Sure."
"Have a seat," she called from the kitchen. She came back into the dining room carrying two beers in each hand. She set all but one down, twisted off its top, and handed it to him. Damn, she turned him on. Had since the first day he’d laid eyes on her in high school. Then his fool-ass brother had to get his hands on her, initially to piss Jared off, but then Lance had realized she was the right sort of accessory—a pretty girl and a hard worker, and he needed both of those to support his Hollywood dream.
"I didn't realize I was hungry until I started putting this out. It smells so good. Thanks for bringing it." She plopped into a chair, pulled herself up to the table, and crossed her legs Indian style. With a sigh of pleasure, she reached for the first carton.
Jared took a swig of his beer and tried to keep his eyes from wandering to her legs or the way the seat cupped her cute ass. He was overcome with a strong need to place a languid kiss there.
Heat flooded his body as desire fought with common sense for control of his decision-making skills. He knew he couldn't kiss her, but man oh man, he really wanted to.
"I have to wash my hands." He stepped toward the hallway.
"Did you turn that fuse off?" she asked over her shoulder, dumping sticky rice onto a plate.
"Yeah."
"It'll be dark in there. There's a flashlight in the cabinet below the sink. Right side." She dipped a spring roll into sweet and sour sauce.
Jared found the flashlight, then closed the door behind him. He stood staring at his reflection, the limited light accentuating the bags under his eyes. His desire to be around her was growing each day. He loved her more today than yesterday, and the frustration of having to balance their friendship with what he really wanted was keeping him awake at night. The subtle yet dull throb in his temples told him a headache was coming on. All this repression was going to give him a stroke.
Opening the medicine cabinet, he searched for aspirin. His heart skipped a beat as he read the label on the second largest bottle. Prenatal.
They weren't the store bought ones either. These were prescription.
All the air in the room went still as a chill of dread ran down his spine. Jared wracked his brain trying to remember if he'd seen Melinda out with anyone or if she'd mentioned any dates. Whoever he was, Jared would kill him. The question was, slowly or quickly? Why wasn't he here? Why wasn't he in her life?
Maybe he didn't exist. Maybe she wasn't pregnant and taking the vitamins because that was something women did. Jared smiled and almost laughed out loud with relief. That had to be the answer. Never mind how moody she'd been. He could attribute that to the fire, and rightly so.
For good measure, he decided to look in the bottom cabinet. He didn't know what he'd find, but a reassurance that his assumptions were accurate would be nice. A giant box of those tampon things would go a long way. Tucked behind a roll of toilet paper was a book about the forty weeks of pregnancy and life after delivery.
Jared sat on the floor and stared at the picture of a baby in the womb. He placed the book back in the cabinet next to an ovulation kit and closed the cabinet doors. He definitely needed the aspirin now. After he used the counter's edge to pull himself up, he had to lean against it to wrestle off the childproof cap. After dumping two tablets in his hand, he placed the bottle back on the shelf while simultaneously knocking a thermometer off. Putting the thermometer back, he closed his eyes, refusing to see anymore. He tossed the pills into his mouth and swallowed them dry, then turned off the flashlight and placed it on the counter. With no light to guide him, he felt his way out of the bathroom, staggering into the light like a man who'd been in the dark far too long.
Melinda was shoveling food into her mouth, pausing only to take a swig of beer.
"I know you like to live on the edge, challenge life, but don't you think drinking is taking it too far?" He walked up to the table and snatched the beer from her hand.
"Hey! What in the hell? What are you talking about?"
"You have someone else to consider now."
Confused, she looked around. "Um…"
"The baby, Melinda. The baby. Do you really think you should be drinking while you're pregnant?" He slid into the dining chair next to her and took a long pull from her beer, finishing it off.
"Jared—"
"Whose is it? Why isn't he coming around?" He put her empty bottle on the table, then reached for his. He tossed it back, finishing it in three swallows. His gaze wandered to the two unopened bottles she had brought out earlier.
"I'm not pregnant." She reached for a bottle and twisted off the top. "But I want to be." She took a long swallow, her eyes still on him.
Jared's mind raced, dividing her remark into manageable bite-size pieces. It made sense she'd want a baby; most of their friends were having them. But he still couldn't figure out all the logistics.
"You got someone special on the hook that you're wanting to be the father of this baby?" This was what he really wanted to know, needed to know.
She sat back in her chair and snorted with what sounded like disgust. "Don't be such a knuckle dragger."
Yep, it was disgust.
"I don't need a someone special to have a baby."
"Melinda—"
"I can have a baby all by myself."
"Well, maybe science has changed since we were in school, but last I knew, you needed a man to contribute to the process."
"Exactly. Contribute, yes. Be present. Nope."
Jared was shaken. "Are you saying...?"
She leaned forward in her chair and put the bottle on the table. With both her hands free, she took the empty bottle from him, set it aside, and then cupped his hands in hers. "I know I've shocked you. That's why I haven't said anything. But I'm talking about inter-uterine insemination. I bought sperm from a bank."
"Melly…" He wanted to cover his ears, make her stop talking.
"It's hard for someone like you, Mr. Tradition, to wrap your mind around someone purposefully being a single parent, especially when you come from a family like yours."
"What's that supposed to mean? And what does it have to do with this?" He was pretty sure she'd just insulted him.
"You know, your mom has always been a stay at home mom. Doesn't she still do your laundry?"
"No." He pulled his hands from hers, then crossed his arms. Truth was she sometimes did.
"What I'm saying is that you don't know anything other than having two parents. One that worked all the time and one that was home all the time. In my situation, I'm purposefully assuming the role of both those people. That's something I'm sure doesn't align with your traditional values."
"Wow, that's the second time tonight you've referred to me as primitive. You come from the same type of family. How're your parents handling this? Or haven't you told them, either?"
She laughed, and the grip on his hand eased. "Funny enough my momma's torn between being appalled and overjoyed at potentially having a grandchild. I think the grandchild idea is tipping the scales because last week she emailed me an article about food that helps fertility."
"I don't know what to say." He searched her face. The vixen that he'd always associated her with being, a man's temptress, was not staring back at him. Instead, he saw a pleading earnestness in her expression, her beautiful face soft and vulnerable. Maybe even a little uncertain, and Melinda had always been all things confident.
"Say that you understand. That you'll still be friends with me when I'm cranky because I'm hugely pregnant or overly tired."
"You don't want to go about this in the typical way?" He tried to ask the question as delicately as he could without getting called a Neanderthal again.
"Yes, because I've been so successful at marriage in the past. I've tried the traditional route. I've dated so much that the folks of this town call me all kinds of names, and you know I'm right. What's the l
atest? That I'm a black widow. Any guy who stops and talks to me is having an affair with me. Women don't talk to me. There's no one in this stupid ass town left for me to date."
A thousand remarks threatened to escape, but the one repeating on loop in his head was she hadn't dated every guy in this stupid ass town. She'd overlooked him.
"What about other towns. Orlando? Tampa?"
"I've been on all the online dating sites. I've kissed more toads who stayed toads than I care to count. They stereotype me based on my looks. Think I'm vapid and without brain cells. That I don't know all those accidental brushings of their hands against my breast isn't their cheap shot of trying to feel me up. I've never been one to let life happen to me, and I'm not about to start now."
"But this is a baby."
"Yeah, I'm starting my own family. Plenty of women do it, and I aim to be one of them. Can't you understand, or try to understand, where I'm coming from?"
"Why does it matter if I do or not?"
She answered without hesitation. "Because you're my friend. Your opinion means a lot to me."
Removing his hands from hers, he stood and looked around the room, his eyes settling on Melinda. His friend. Horseshit. It was all horseshit. They had a friendship built on what exactly? What would she think if she knew he came around because he was looking for something from her, and it wasn't freaking friendship? Jared scrubbed his hands down his face, the dull thud of his headache replaced by a louder pulsing, stabbing pain. "I should go."
She gave him a doe-like blink. "OK."
"I'm going to check the back door first." He shuffled out of the dining room and made his way in the dark to the back of the house.
Melinda followed. "I feel stupid being intentionally in the dark."
"Yeah, I know what you mean," he mumbled.
"Jared—"
He swung to face her. "I think you need to wait a bit and think it through some. What if the kid has needs, needs like Keith. That hasn't been easy on my folks, you know."
She shrugged. "Then I'll do the best I can. It would be no different if I had a baby and the dad took off. That happens, too."
