Their Secret Baby Bond

by Stephanie Dees

  She backed away from him and nodded. “That’s fair. Maybe it was all in my head. Maybe I made it seem like so much more than it was because my feelings for you were so big. Either way, I’m sorry for what I did.”

  He looked at his watch and glanced out the door. Dusk had fallen, and it was getting late. “I’ve got to go. I’ll take Pop with me.”

  Her blue eyes were huge, and she looked fragile in a way he’d never seen her before. “Of course. I’m sorry I kept you so long.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He slung his tool belt over his shoulder, walked out the door and onto the porch, every step feeling like the wrong direction. The lights were on in the huge old farmhouse, and he knew that was where Pop waited, and he took a couple more steps. He should go in and get his grandpa and go home, to his life.

  He stopped, dropped his tool belt on the path by the pond and strode back into the house. Wynn was at the fireplace.

  Without any real conscious thought, he crossed the room, slid his fingers in her hair and took her mouth. He poured every unrequited feeling he’d ever had into that kiss, and when she sagged against him, he slid his arm around the small of her back and dragged her closer.

  When he finally let her feet slide to the floor, he pressed a kiss into her hair and slid his thumb down the side of her flawless cheek. He took a step back, his hands, gentle now, sliding down her arms. “It wasn’t just a kiss.”

  Chapter Seven

  Wynn wound her way through the tables at the Hilltop, an easy smile on her face and a pot of coffee in her hand. Pop’s sister had come to stay with him for a week or two, so she wouldn’t be going to Latham’s today, which was just as well. She had no idea what she would say to him since she was still reeling from that kiss last night.

  In the past few weeks, she thought she’d finally managed to put Latham firmly in the friend category. That illusion—or delusion—had been shattered in a matter of seconds last night.

  Catching herself staring out the front window, she startled. Get it together, Wynn. This wasn’t ten years ago, and it was not last night. She was in the present, and that didn’t include daydreaming about what might have been.

  Tightening her grip on the coffeepot, she stopped by Mayor Campbell’s table. “Freshen you up, Mayor?”

  The older man, who’d lost his wife while Wynn had been away, held his cup out. “We need to have coffee together some time, Wynn. I know I’m just in local politics, but I’d enjoy picking your brain about what’s going on in Washington these days.”

  “I’d love that, Mayor Campbell.” She filled his mug with black coffee and dropped a few creamers from her apron pocket onto the table.

  “Call me Chip, please. I’m hopeless at a schedule, so if you’ll call my assistant, she’ll put you on the calendar and I’ll look forward to it.”

  Mayor Campbell—Chip—understated his involvement in politics. He might be a local mayor but he was a big player in his political party in this state, and Wynn relished the idea of chatting with him. He’d always had a soft spot for her, but would he feel the same about her when the word was out about her pregnancy? People may not know for sure who the father was, but there would certainly be speculation about her relationship with her former boss.

  The bell on the door jingled. When she looked up, Latham stood in the doorway. He was dressed in his usual jeans, boots and flannel. There was nothing slick or fancy about him, but he oozed effortless masculinity. Her skin prickled, and she imagined it was the nerve endings relaying the message to her brain. Stay away—this one is dangerous.

  When he caught sight of her, his eyes warmed. She turned away. She had no business being attracted to him—to his mind or heart or anything else.

  She slid the coffeepot onto the warmer, and after a deep breath she turned back to him, a breakfast menu in hand. “We’re not super busy. You’re welcome to find a table.”

  He leaned on the counter, so close to her she could count his breaths. “I’m not here for a table.”

  The implication was that he was here for something else. Her heart raced despite the absolute futility of what he was hinting at and the talk she’d just had with herself.

  He leaned so close that she could see the green and gold flecks in his deep brown eyes. “Come out with me tonight. I have a class to teach at six, and then we could get dinner somewhere and really talk. We can do something right this time.”

  It was tempting, so tempting. She’d love to go on a normal date, to pretend for a little while that nothing in her life had changed. But it had, and pretending otherwise wouldn’t help anyone. Especially Latham. She shook her head slowly. “Latham, I can’t go on a date with you.”

  “Why not?” Vulnerability flickered in his eyes before he shuttered it, and she resisted the urge to reach out to him.

  She could feel a dozen pairs of eyes on them. “Come with me.”

  Grabbing him by the hand, she pulled him into her mother’s office, a ruthlessly organized utilitarian space. “Look, you made your point last night. It was more than a kiss. There was something between us back then, something that could’ve probably been amazing. But that’s the past, Latham. This baby I’m carrying is my present. I don’t have the luxury of anything else.”

  Determination flared to life in his eyes. She knew it because she’d seen it before. “Latham, stop.”

  Instead of backing away, he took a step closer. “I’m not an immature schoolboy anymore, Wynn. I let you go once without a fight, and I’m not doing that again. We let this run its course and we decide it’s not for us, fine, but we let it run its course.”

  Was he actually so thickheaded that he didn’t understand why this was such a bad idea? “Latham, you can’t date me! Your life is here. You teach at the college. I’m not married and I’m pregnant with another man’s baby.”

  The words were hard and hung in the air. He had to see the truth. He was such a good person, truly a good person, the kind of person who gave up the life he’d planned so he could take care of his aging grandpa.

  She was scarred and broken and trying to rebuild who she was. Trying to find some semblance of the self she respected.

  Latham smiled, a lazy upturn of his lips, and the danger alert went off in her brain again. He took a step closer. “You can’t scare me away, Wynn. I’ll see ya around.”

  He left, and the air left with him. She sank into her mother’s desk chair. She’d seen what happened when Latham turned the full force of his personality onto a goal. She’d just never been at the center of his sights before.

  * * *

  Latham slammed the board into position and hammered it down. He’d gone to Wynn with his heart on his sleeve and once again she’d tossed it back in his face, just a little more personally this time.

  He went for the next board, ran it through the table saw with a satisfying buzz and squeal. He dropped it on the crossbeams and hammered the nails in, the sound reverberating around him.

  Sweating now, he stripped off the flannel shirt and tossed it aside. He wasn’t angry, exactly. He was frustrated. Frustrated that even after the last few weeks with him, she didn’t trust him enough to take a chance and just go to dinner with him. Steak and a baked potato. He wasn’t asking her to marry him.

  The thought stuck in his mind like a tantalizing dream. A dream farther out of reach than the ones he normally tortured himself with. Dreams like finishing his PhD and making his living as a professor of history and political science.

  He ran the next board through the saw with grim precision and then muscled it into place. He hammered the nails, feeling the blows all the way up to his shoulder.

  When the ringing of the hammer stopped, he heard a voice behind him. “What are you doing?”

  Turning toward it, he found Ash leaning casually against the porch rail, a baby monitor in his hand. “What does it look like I’m doing?”


  “It looks like you’re destroying a few boards.”

  Latham narrowed his eyes. “I’m building Levi a sandbox.”

  “With a deck?” Ash pushed off the railing and took the couple of steps down to the yard. At Latham’s look, he raised both his hands. “Hey, I’m not complaining. Just asking.”

  “I needed to do something, and there are people at my house.” Ash was staring at him like he’d never seen him before. “What?”

  “I’ve just never seen you so—worked up. You’re usually the calm one.”

  “I am calm.” Latham resented the implication here. He dropped his safety goggles into place and shoved a board through the table saw.

  Sawdust sprayed, and Ash brushed an invisible speck off his crisp dress shirt. “Of course you are. I heard you saw Wynn at the Hilltop this morning.”

  “Do we gossip like little girls now?”

  Ash crossed his arms, an irritated look crossing his too-handsome face. “I’m not the one who nearly kissed someone in the middle of the local café in front of half the town.”

  Latham shoved the safety glasses back. “Your sister—”

  “—is having a really hard time right now.”

  The words stopped Latham midsentence, pulling the plug on his frustration and draining it away. He closed his mouth.

  Ash flipped the switch on the table saw, and the humming stopped. “Come on. Let’s get a drink.”

  Latham followed Ash onto the porch and sank into one of the rockers that Jordan had placed there after she and Ash were married. Ash went into the house and returned with a couple of diet sodas. Latham cracked one open and took a long drink while Ash did the same.

  They sat in silence for a while, the need for conversation never that pressing between the two of them who had been friends for so long.

  Finally, Ash said, “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No.” Latham scowled. He didn’t want to talk about it. “Why aren’t you at work?”

  “The office closes at twelve on Wednesdays.” Ash smiled without looking at Latham, but he lifted the baby monitor and waggled it. “I’m on duty here this afternoon. Levi’s napping.”

  “I’m leaving. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” Latham drained the soda and stood. “I’ll be back to finish Levi’s sandbox.”

  He packed up his saw and put it into the back of his truck, slamming the tailgate before rounding the side and opening the driver’s-side door.

  “Latham.” Ash stepped off the porch and walked closer. “If chasing Wynn is some kind of challenge to yourself to see if you can actually get her to care about you this time around, stop.”

  Latham leaned on his truck. “You really think that about me?”

  “Truthfully, no. But Wynn was always the one who got away from you.”

  He crossed his arms. “I don’t see her as a challenge. Her coming home threw me, is all. I’m just trying to make sense of it.”

  Ash nodded slowly. “Look, we never talked about Wynn back then, and I would’ve probably called you a baby if we did because I was mature like that. Meeting Jordan... I’ve never wanted anything as bad as I wanted Jordan in my life forever. So, if you care about my sister and she’s under your skin like Jordan’s under mine, don’t give up.”

  Latham grinned. “Are we talking about feelings?”

  Ash looked around. “Yeah, we need to go hit some balls or something.”

  “I have an extra tool belt you can strap on.”

  “Very funny.” A squawk came from the baby monitor, and Ash started for the house. “That’s my cue. See ya.”

  Latham vaulted into his truck seat and slammed the door. He sat and stared at the river for a minute. Ash had just taken a dramatic turn from the usual message from Wynn’s brothers.

  Giving up on Wynn wasn’t an option. Latham was fully aware that she came with strings attached. He didn’t care about that. Maybe there was something there between the two of them and maybe not, but they owed it to each other to find out.

  * * *

  Wynn pushed Claire into a chair after finding her washing dishes with one hand, the tiny baby in the other arm. “Where’s Mrs. Matthews?”

  “She has the day off, so she went to visit her sister.”

  “Want me to take the baby or wash the dishes?”

  “Dishes, please.” Claire sighed as Wynn filled the teapot and put it on the stove. She had a simple headband holding her light brown hair back from her face. “Bertie had to be at the diner this morning. Can you hand me that bottle off the counter? I tried to feed her a little while ago, and she wasn’t ready for it.”

  “I thought the baby was temporary?” Wynn picked up the bottle, shook it a little and handed it to Claire.

  “She is. Two more days. And she’s the last for a while. I promised Joe that we’d keep the status quo here for three months after the baby is born. Ohhhh.” Claire let out a long, drawn-out half laugh, half groan.

  Wynn turned the water off. “Claire, was that a contraction?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been having Braxton Hicks for a month. I’m fine—I’ve just been on my feet all morning. The baby’s not due for a couple more weeks.” She looked up as Wynn placed a steaming cup of herbal tea on the side table. “Thanks. So Latham looked a little pale when he came in for Pop the other night after he tutored the kids.”

  Heart skittering ahead of itself, Wynn began picking up toys from the floor, placing them in the big wicker baskets on either side of the fireplace. “That’s strange.”

  Claire looked at her with knowing eyes. “I thought so. Is there something going on with you two?”

  “No.” Wynn’s cheeks flushed hot as she thought about the toe-tingling kiss they’d shared at the cottage two nights ago and the charged conversation yesterday in her mom’s office.

  Luckily, Claire’s eyes were on the baby in her lap. “Still, it must be weird seeing him again after all these years. You, Joe, Ash and Latham were all pretty tight, right?” She sucked in a breath. “Oh wow, these contractions are definitely stronger than they were yesterday.”

  “It is weird. We’re all grown up now, and I’m honestly not sure I know what to do with it all.” Wynn picked up the last toy and sat beside Claire on the couch, watching her carefully. Wynn knew next to nothing about labor, but Claire’s contractions didn’t seem to be the mild Braxton Hicks ones that she’d read about in the books. “Have those been hurting like that all morning?”

  “Yeah. My back is killing me, too.” Claire lifted the baby to her shoulder and began patting the tiny back, no wider than her hand. Claire paused midpat, her face going white. “Wynn, is it—do you think—it’s possible I might be in labor?”

  Wynn tried not to laugh. After all, this would be her in a few months. “I think so. If my timing is right, your contractions are about five minutes apart.”

  Claire tried to get off the sofa and failed, wailing in frustration. “How am I going to have a baby if I can’t even get off the couch?”

  Wynn slid the baby from Claire’s arms into her own and handed Claire her phone. “Call Joe.”

  Wynn placed the sleeping baby into the cradle in the corner and tried not to listen to the conversation between her brother and his wife. Even so, it was impossible not to hear her brother’s impatient tone as he answered the phone and how his voice softened when he realized it was Claire.

  “Babe, don’t panic.” Claire looked at Wynn and rolled her eyes up as a shout came through the phone. “Joe, it’s time to go to the hospital. I’ve been having contractions all morning and they’re getting close to being five minutes apart.”

  Claire laughed then winced, pressing her taut belly. “Joe, listen to me. Stop yelling and get me to the hospital.”

  She hung up the phone and closed her eyes. “We should be hearing sirens in about a minute and a half, the
way he drives.”

  “What can I do?”

  “My bag is beside the door to the bedroom. I have a plan in place for the kids, but my plan involves Bertie and Mrs. Matthews.” Claire sat straight up on the couch. “I can’t have a baby today. I have seven—eight—children to take care of.”

  Wynn found Claire’s bag in the bedroom just as, true to Claire’s prediction, she heard her brother’s police siren in the distance. She went back into the kitchen living area. “I had a background check so I could babysit Levi for Jordan, so I’ve got this. Just tell me where they are.”

  “The little ones are at preschool. Penny and Matthew are at the elementary school. Amelia, Aleecya and Jackson are at the upper school. All the pickup times and where they all are is written on the calendar on the fridge. The keys to my van are hanging by the back door.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything here.” The wail of Joe’s police siren was getting closer. “I promise.”

  Joe slammed the kitchen door open, whipping off his silver aviators. “Claire?”

  She lifted a hand. “Right here.”

  He hauled her to her feet and pulled her close, a tender look in his ice-blue eyes. “Baby, we’ve got to go. I called ahead. They’re going to be waiting for us. It’s lights and siren all the way.”

  “Sounds fun.” Claire groaned and blew out a long, slow breath.

  “The kids?”

  Through gritted teeth, Claire said, “Wynn’s got the command.”

  Joe turned to Wynn. “Don’t panic. Everything will go fine. Just follow the chart. I’ll get Mom to help you.”

  As he rushed Claire out the door, he met her eyes. “Thanks, sis. I’ll keep you posted.”

  Wynn closed the door behind him and leaned against it. Claire and Joe were in this together, and when Claire called, Joe dropped everything to come to her. His tender care of his wife just illuminated the fact that Wynn was doing this all on her own.