Three Boys And A Baby (American Romance)

by Laura Marie Altom

  “Ell, come on. After all we’ve been through together, you can tell me anything.”

  She laughed, not her usual bubbly laugh, but more in the range of a strangled chicken. “Oh no. This, I’m for sure taking to the grave.”

  “Now, I don’t want to know, but have to.” Leaning closer, planting an impromptu kiss to Rose’s forehead, he said, “Come on. Spill.”

  “No,” she said, cheeks charmingly flushed. “It’s too embarrassing.”

  “Want me to tell you a horrible secret first?”

  “Okay…” Rose had apparently had her fill, and let the bottle’s nipple fall from her mouth. The way the infant then snuggled against Ell’s breasts caused his mind to wander to topics best left alone. Things like whether or not Ella had breastfed the twins. She had beautiful breasts—high and perfectly shaped to fit in the palms of a man’s hands. Mouth dry, he caught himself staring and looked away before his own cheeks reddened. “I’m waiting,” Ella said.

  “Oh, right. My secret. Well…” He took a deep breath. Whereas he’d planned on confessing something stupid—like he loved singing in the shower—something about the way she looked at him, the way her lips were half-parted, the way the flickering light was reflected in her eyes, made him say so much more. “Ell…”

  “Yes?”

  “My secret is that…” His pulse should’ve been racing, but instead, his heartbeat felt curiously steady and dull. Almost as if his sudden penchant for his neighbor might’ve been a surprise to his head, but his heart had known all along.

  “I’m…ah…afraid I’m starting to like you more than I should.”

  “Wh-what do you mean?” she asked. Had he only imagined her breath’s slight hitch?

  The boys’ raucous cries and laughter faded as Jackson fumbled for the right words. He never should have confessed such a thing. He’d already firmly established in his head that Ell was off-limits. She was untouchable and—

  And…laughing. Ella Garvey was laughing at him.

  “What’s so funny?” he demanded.

  Leaning into him, mirroring his pose, she whispered, “What’s funny is that your secret is the same as mine. I didn’t want to come tonight because of your pending reunion with Julie. I, well…” Ducking her gaze, she admitted, “The last thing I wanted was to come between Dillon and the possibility of him getting his family back.”

  Settling against his chair, staring up at the evening’s first stars, Jackson exhaled a long, slow breath.

  “What’s that mean?” she asked, voice a wobbly version of her usual in-control tone.

  “Just that it’s incredible to me that here we’ve lived so close to each other all these years—for the past two years have suffered through similar fates—yet only just now, when Julie finally gets her act together, do we actually talk.”

  “I know,” she said with a nervous titter. “It’s crazy. See why I didn’t want to say anything?”

  He nodded.

  “Dad!” Dillon shouted. “Is dinner almost done?”

  “Crap!” Jackson said under his breath. “I hope the potatoes aren’t burned.”

  Ella giggled.

  “Think that’s funny, do you? Have you had a charred potato?”

  “Too many times to count. I’m hopeless when it comes to barbecuing.”

  “In that case,” he said with a wink on his way to the grill, “you should be in luck.”

  Luckily for all of them, Jackson was very good with a grill, and after Ella had settled Rose onto a makeshift quilt pallet for an after-dinner nap, they feasted on steak and loaded baked potatoes and the Caesar salad Ella and the boys had made. For dessert, they had brownies Ella had brought. They were sweet and chewy and as delicious as the company. It had been a long time since he and Dillon had laughed over a meal, but from here on out, Jackson vowed things were going to change. Whether he reunited with Julie was irrelevant. What truly mattered was that he make things right with his son. The way they used to be. Even if he never shared that kiss he craved with Ella, he owed her an incalculable amount of thanks for snapping him out of his funk. For reminding him he not only had a life to lead, but a rich, full life.

  Tears stung his eyes, and he looked away from his guests and son.

  “Yeah,” Dillon said, continuing the story he’d been relating about what had happened that day in Mrs. Morgan’s second-grade class, “and then when the rabbit got out, it pooped all over Bonnie Taylor’s new shoes, and man, you should’ve heard her scream.”

  While Owen and Oliver hooted with laughter, Jackson and Ella shared a look. One that conveyed volumes without saying a word on the subject of how bizarre it was that nothing entertained the boys quite like the subject of fecal matter.

  “Thank you,” Ella said with a hug Jackson never wanted to end after they’d put away the leftovers and shared the work of the dishes. “It’s been a really nice night.”

  “You’re welcome, and I agree. When should we do it again?”

  “Whoa,” she said, palms pressed to his chest. “Slow down. I already told you that I have no intention of coming between you and Julie.”

  “Fair enough,” he said with a formal bow. “But what if I told you that from the start, I wasn’t as sure about Julie and I getting back together as Dillon has been?”

  Jackson had expected her to be pleased with this news, but instead, she turned her back on him and headed into the entry hall where the boys had tucked Rose into her carrier.

  “Ell?” he said, stepping behind her, not touching her, but surely close enough that she sensed his presence. “Did I say something to upset you?”

  “No. Yes.” Spinning to face him, she said quietly, so that only he could hear, “You have to know I always enjoy being with you. I consider Dillon as dear as my own son. But because of that, I have to—no, I want to—ensure he has every happiness he deserves. And if that means giving up on this…this curiosity we’ve developed for each other, then so be it.”

  “But—”

  “Shhh…” Her back to the chattering boys, she shocked him by covering his mouth with her fingertips. “Promise me, Jackson, that you’ll at least give Julie a chance. Give your family a chance.”

  “Ell, I—”

  “Promise, Jackson. I’ve been betrayed by someone I love. I won’t do it to someone else.” Her eyes were beseeching, her tone endearing, her conviction beyond admirable. As attracted to Ella as he was, he was that much more in awe. “Promise?”

  Spirit-weary, Jackson gave her his word.

  “WELL?” RACHEL ASKED in between patients the next day. She’d earlier admitted to badly craving a cigarette and was chewing her gum extra hard. “How was the big steak dinner?”

  Ignoring her friend in favor of studying four-year-old Caitlin Marsh’s chart, Ella simply said, “Fun. The night was fun.”

  “Just fun?”

  “You sound disappointed.” She did a quick scan of the patient’s complaints. Slight fever, sore throat, persistent cough.

  “Did he kiss you?”

  “Rachel,” Ella warned.

  “Give me a break. I saw the way he looked at you the other day when he came in. Sure, at the moment, you’re just in the exploratory phase of your relationship, but judging by how close the boys are—”

  “Exploratory phase?”

  Rachel shrugged. “I tape Oprah. But back to the topic at hand, did he?”

  “Did he what?”

  “Kiss you,” her nurse said in a stage whisper. “I want details. Lots and lots of juicy, kissing-a-hunky-fireman details.”

  Carly, the resident insurance specialist, popped her head around her officer corner. “He did kiss her?”

  “You know about this, too?” Ella asked.

  “Everyone does,” said Paige, the pint-size receptionist, on her way out of the break room. “Face it, we all lead frightfully dull lives. Lately, you’re better than The Young and the Restless.” She winked.

  “Guys,” Ella said, eyeing each and every one of them,
“I know you mean well, but please, lay off. I’ll be the first to admit, Jackson’s a hunk, but he didn’t kiss me, and never will. He’s patching things up with his wife, and that’s that.” Pasting on a smile brighter than she felt, she added, “I’m happy for him and his son. You all should be, too.”

  Paige said, “Honey, that man’s wife did him wrong. Bad wrong. You, on the other hand, have never hurt anyone or anything—except for that ant colony you annihilated under your crawl space last spring.”

  “Oh—and the squirrels in her attic.” Rachel scratched her head. “And don’t forget the opossum family in her garage.”

  “Great, I feel so much better knowing my dearest friends consider me a menace to nature—and, FYI, I live-trapped the opossums and the squirrels. Now, any chance of us seeing some patients?”

  “MMM…” JULIE SAID with a firm hug. “I missed you.”

  Though Jackson returned the hug, he wished he could return the sentiments. It’d been barely over a week since her last visit, and truthfully, he wasn’t sure he was ready for her to be back. But then Ella’s words came to mind, along with the promise he’d made her.

  …at least give Julie a chance. Give your family a chance.

  “Mom!” Dillon raced down the stairs, tossing his arms around Julie’s waist. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

  The joy radiating from his son made Jackson feel like a jerk. What was wrong with him that he couldn’t get on board with the Yay, Mom’s back parade?

  “Come see my room,” Dillon said, taking Julie by her hand. “I cleaned it just for you. And, look—” he puffed his chest “—I put on this icky shirt Grandma Franny gave me, even though I don’t like it, because I know you do.”

  “You’re a sweetheart,” Julie said, ruffling his hair. “We’ll have to take a picture of you wearing it, so she can see.” Fran was Julie’s mom and lived on an Arizona golf course. She also happened to have seriously disturbing taste in clothes—proven by Dillon’s black-and-purple shirt with the dancing cows around the collar, sleeves and hem. “I’m sure she’ll be very proud of how handsome you look.”

  Dillon made a face. “Do we have to take pictures? I don’t want anyone else to see.”

  “Why?” she asked, kneeling to be at his eye level.

  Dillon glanced at Jackson. “Dad…”

  Clearing his throat, Dad came to the rescue. “Julie, in the time you’ve been gone, Dillon’s grown quite a bit. Purple and black used to be his favorite colors, but he’s a young man now, and—”

  “Do you have to discredit me in front of our son?” Her eyes flashed fire.

  “That’s the last thing I’m trying to do,” Jackson said, fingers at his throbbing temples. “I was only trying to make you see that—”

  “Make me see? Like I’m the one with the problem? Well, for the record—”

  “Stop!” Dillon had his hands over his ears. “Geez, Dad, I was so happy to have Mom home, why’d you have to go and ruin it by fighting? I’ll wear the stupid shirt for the rest of my life if that’s what Mom wants!” Crying, but doing an admirable job of trying to hide it, the kid raced up the stairs.

  Shaking his head, Jackson wandered off to the kitchen. He needed a beer.

  “You’re just going to leave me?” Julie asked, close on his heels. “Don’t you think we should talk?”

  In front of the open fridge door, letting the cool air wash over him, Jackson said, “Why is it that back when you left me, I wanted to talk but you didn’t? Now, all of a sudden, the tables are turned, but you can’t stand it.”

  “I’ve apologized all I’m going to for leaving, Jackson. I’ve come to you, proverbial white flag waving, then you throw that crap in my face about Dillon having grown up. Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think it’s eating me up inside that my son is turning into a young man without me? I miss tucking him in, and reading to him and cooking his favorite meals. I miss folding his little shirts and undies and making sure he brushes his teeth.”

  “That’s all well and good,” Jackson said, “but do you miss anything about me? Do you get the fact that if you move in here, it’s a package deal? You get me and Dillon, seeing how I’m not the leaving type.”

  She graced him with a slow, sarcastic round of applause Jackson guessed he had coming. “Great closing argument, I’m impressed. Been watching a lot of Law & Order?”

  After grabbing his beer, he slammed the fridge door, rattling the condiments. “This bickering back and forth is getting us nowhere. Worse yet, it’s hurting our son.”

  “Agreed.” Hands on her hips, dressed in one of her signature black power suits and black patent-leather four-inch heels, she looked every bit the powerful lawyer, but nothing like a mother. Nothing like Ella. Not that he planned on making a play for Ella, because they’d already agreed that was a path neither wanted to go down. Still, no matter how much Julie professed to wanting to be a mother, Jackson feared she didn’t have it in her. Just as she was instinctively a brilliant attorney, she was a lousy mom.

  Chapter Seven

  “Hey, Jackson,” Ella said early Friday night, glancing over her shoulder while removing the mixer from a batter-filled bowl. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Where’s your partner in crime?”

  “Dillon?”

  “Who else?” she asked with a laugh, telling herself it was exertion from baking six dozen cupcakes for the PTA bake sale that had her pulse racing, and not the sight of Jackson looking seriously yummy in faded jeans and a red T-shirt.

  Dragging his finger through the chocolate batter, he crooned, “Mmm. That’s good.”

  “It’s also for the school. How long’s it been since you last washed your hands?”

  “At least four days,” he said with a wink. “Sorry. Anyway, won’t the oven’s heat zap my cooties?”

  “Yes,” she said, “but, nevertheless, I pride myself on running a clean establishment.” Releasing the beaters, she offered him one. He accepted and she took the other. “I love it when the boys are outside, and I get to do the licking.”

  “Me, too,” he said. He’d gotten a dot of chocolate on the tip of his nose, and she automatically wiped it off.

  “Sorry,” she said when he dodged, caught unaware. Proving she’d had good reason to touch him, she held up her finger with the smudge of chocolate on it. “You looked like a bad boy with this on the tip of your nose.”

  “Thanks for rescuing my reputation,” he said, catching hold of the base of her finger, bringing it toward his mouth where he proceeded to ever-so-lightly suck off the batter, never losing sight of her stare. “I’d hate for anyone—especially you—to think of me as bad.”

  Heart in her throat, it was all Ella could do to breathe, let alone think of a witty reply. Things like this didn’t happen to her. Ever.

  “Damn,” he said, abruptly releasing her to cover his face with his hands.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “That was seriously over the top, wasn’t it? I mean, when Brad Pitt used it in his last action flick, it worked great for him, but—”

  Ella kissed Jackson quiet. Then suddenly was mortified by her own behavior! What was she thinking? Apparently nothing, as she wanted to do it again.

  “Wow,” he said, a slow, sexy grin tugging the corners of his lips. “Your technique’s way better than mine.”

  “No…” She shook her head. “I mean, yes, but that can’t happen again. You’re a married man.”

  “No, Ell, I’m not.” Taking her hand, he twined her fingers with his, and she closed her eyes, inwardly sighing with guilty pleasure. It had been so long since she’d touched a man like this. Simply yet intimately. Emotion balled in her stomach. Hunger she’d thought extinct. Passion she’d all but abandoned. Hope, fear and the giddy, somersaulting excitement of a first crush.

  “But you might as well be married,” her rational side reasoned. “Julie’s in town right now. In fact, why aren’t you with her?”

  “She took Dillon to get a haircut, then out f
or ice cream.”

  “Oh.”

  “They’re having what her favorite parenting tome calls ‘mother-son bonding.’”

  “Oh.”

  “So, see?” he said, stroking her palm with his thumb, snaking forbidden heat through her limbs. “I’m totally allowed to be here with you.”

  “But—” For sanity’s sake, she jerked her hand free, clutching it to her chest as if she’d been burned. “This is what I was talking about the other night at your house. You haven’t even given Julie a chance. She’s trying so hard to win Dillon back. And, presumably, you. Yet you’re here with me. How will you even know if things might work out between you if you don’t at least try? You promised me, Jackson, remember?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I remember. But when I’m with her, I’d rather forget. All we do is fight.” His touch painfully tender, he skimmed his palm over the crown of her head. Ella wanted to relax into his touch, but couldn’t—wouldn’t, for it felt dangerously good. “When I’m with you, all I want to do is be with you more. You make me feel good inside. Happy. She makes me feel all tangled up and angry.”

  Ella’s oven timer went off.

  The annoying buzz woke Rose who’d been catnapping in a patch of early-evening sun in the baby swing Ella had bought her the previous day.

  “I’ll get her,” Jackson said, already headed that way. “You get whatever smells so good in the oven.”

  The oven’s heat did nothing to relieve Ella’s blazing cheeks. Part of her was thrilled at Jackson’s admission of not being as into his ex as she apparently was into him, but another part was mortified. Ella loved Dillon like one of her own sons. How could she deny him a mother for no better reason than to indulge her own selfish desires? The very notion went against everything she’d ever believed in. Her whole life had been centered around her children. Her career and, she’d believed—up until Todd’s infidelity—her marriage.

  Setting the cupcake pan on a cooling rack, she placed another already filled with colorful cups and white cake batter into the oven, then reset the timer.