OKAY. DAD SET IT UP. THE MAN’S LOADED AND READY TO CONTRIBUTE. TOO BAD HE’S KIND OF A SCHMUCK.
THERE’S A LOT OF THOSE IN POLITICS.
GEE, THANKS!!!!
PRESENT COMPANY EXCLUDED! SHEESH, I’M SUPPOSED TO BE THE HORMONAL ONE. THANKS FOR LETTING ME STAY LAST NIGHT. BEST SLEEP IN WEEKS!
WELCOME. MY PILLOW SMELLS LIKE YOU NOW.
SORRY! SHOULDA WASHED YOUR SHEETS. BAD, JADE! :(
WASN’T COMPLAINING . . .
He sent the text and reread it, wincing. How would she take that? He wished he could recall it. Her reply dinged.
OKAAAAY . . .
What did that mean? He didn’t even know what to say. Obviously, she hadn’t either. He’d better shut this down before he blew it.
SHOULD LET YOU GET TO BED. WORKING AT THE COFFEE SHOP TOMORROW?
BRIGHT AND EARLY. LAST WEEKEND.
HURRAH!
I HEARD MY NEW BOSS IS A TYRANT THOUGH.
LIES!
HA. WE’LL SEE.
GET SOME REST.
NIGHT.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“WHAT’S THIS?” JADE TOOK THE SLIP OF PAPER FROM DANIEL. She tucked her bag under Betty Jean’s desk, still trying to wake up.
“Your first paycheck.”
Jade handed it back. “It’s my first day on the job. I haven’t even answered a phone call.”
Daniel crossed his arms, his biceps bulging. “It’s an advance. Go get your apartment, Jade.”
She eyed the check. Her mom was back in the store today. Jade had covered her tracks, washing her bedding at the Quick Spin and returning Daniel’s microwave. She’d come early this morning and piled her belongings into the storage closet at the back of Daniel’s office. Now she needed a nice long nap.
“You saw all my stuff, didn’t you?”
“I don’t care about that. It’s just an advance. Is it enough to get you in?”
If she combined it with her piddly savings. “Yeah.”
“Take care of it at lunch. I’ll help you move in tonight. Deal?”
Her own place. Her own bed. Her own shower! She couldn’t say no. She gave a grateful smile. “Thanks, Daniel.”
“Don’t thank me yet. You haven’t met Tyrant Daniel.”
“I’ll bet he’s a pain in the—”
“Hey now . . . “He nudged her leg. “I’m signing your paychecks, you know.”
Betty Jean hadn’t arrived yet, so Daniel showed Jade around. He acquainted her with the phone system, pointed out the mini-fridge, and introduced her to the ornery copy machine.
“Jade, meet Methuselah. Methuselah, Jade. I hope you have better luck than I do.” He gave the ancient beast a sideways glance. “Betty Jean has a special way with him. I hope she shares her secret with you.”
He unlocked the door to the walk-in closet. “This is keyed the same as the back door, and I’ll get you a key for the front door.”
He opened the closet door. “You’ll find all the files and supplies in here—whoa!” He caught the door as it swung shut behind her. “Rule number one: the door locks automatically.” He nudged a wooden wedge into place under the door, then explained the file system. “We lock the closet at night but keep it propped open during the day.”
The faint smell of his cologne teased her nose in the small enclosure. He always smelled so nice. Like soap and leather. He pointed out the supply of ink for the printer at the back. His sleeves were rolled at the cuff, displaying strong forearms and a thick-banded wristwatch.
“Paper for the copier is on this side, and down here”—he squatted down—“is the all-important supply of coffee with filters and cups, et cetera.” His movement pulled his shirt taut across his shoulders. They were broad and tapered down to a trim waist, enhanced by a brown leather belt. As he stood, her eyes fell over the rest of him.
When he left the closet, she followed him back into the office. A text dinged as she approached her desk. She checked it, then silenced her phone.
“Sorry about that. The family won’t leave me alone. I swear, since Friday I’ve gotten about a hundred texts a day between the five of them.”
“They’re worried about you.”
“Everything’s fine.”
“They have five months of fussing to make up for.”
She settled into Betty Jean’s chair. “They’re making up for it, believe me.”
“Your doctor’s appointment is in the morning, right? I had Betty Jean reschedule my meeting with the transportation department.”
“Oh—yeah. Actually, you’re off the hook. Mom and the girls want to go. I’m having another ultrasound and—” She stopped at his crestfallen look. “I can’t tell you how much your support has meant. But I know you’re busy. I’ve already taken up too much of your time.”
“You haven’t taken anything, Jade. My time is my own to give.”
“I know. I just—I’m sure you have better things to do than sit around a waiting room with a bunch of pregnant women.” She chuckled.
He smiled. She wondered if she’d imagined his disappointment. “Yeah, no problem. I’m sure they’re dying to see the babies.” He sat in his chair across from her and woke his computer.
“They are.”
He was already checking his e-mail, so she left him alone. The clock on the wall showed four minutes until Betty Jean’s appointed arrival time. Jade’s eyes drifted over her future desk. Stacks of papers, files, and framed photos covered the top, and an HP monitor sat front and center. The system unit hummed quietly from a cubby by her leg. She was going to clear off the desk or at least find some organizers to clean it up.
Daniel’s desk was worse. Papers fanned across the top of a black blotter, barely visible, in no apparent order. A colorful bouquet of pens and pencils bloomed from a mahogany canister in the corner. A photo of his parents and grandma perched beside it, and a calendar, filled with penciled-in appointments, was tacked to the wall next to him.
Her eyes slid to Daniel. His fingers did a fast hunt-and-peck across the keyboard as his brows furrowed. The glow of the screen lit his face in the inadequately lit room. He had a nice profile. Long dark lashes that swept up and down as he typed, the perfect sized nose, a strong jaw, freshly shaven. His lips were nice too. Gently rounded peaks, set far apart. His lower lip was generous. Good kissing lips. He pursed them now.
Jade jerked her eyes away.
What are you doing, Jade? That’s Daniel. She’d never noticed his nose or his long lashes, to say nothing of his lips—or had thoughts of kissing them.
It was the hormones. They were doing weird things to her. Making her think crazy thoughts.
Thoughts that need to stop. Good grief. Maybe she needed another date. She’d been putting off Cody for a couple of weeks, feeling guilty about withholding the pregnancy.
Now that she’d told her family, she could tell him and potentially resume the relationship—if he was still interested. Word had spread already. Once she’d stopped trying to hide her stomach, folks noticed. She wondered if Cody knew already. She hadn’t heard from him since . . . she thought back. Thursday or Friday. He’d asked her out Saturday, but she was working.
She should’ve called him. He’d probably gotten wind of the news. That was why she hadn’t heard from him. Why had she thought any man would want her in this condition?
The front door swung open, and Betty Jean entered, all swaying hips and poofy hair, saving Jade from the depressing thought.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
JADE PLACED THE PILLAR CANDLES ON THE WALL SHELF NEXT to the family photo and frowned. She moved them to the end table and gave a satisfied nod.
Her new apartment had filled out a bit, thanks to the church rummage sale. Her mom had let her pick from the leftovers, and she’d scored two ugly but serviceable sofas, two end tables, a decent bed, and other odds and ends. Her eyes drifted around the room. Mom had donated an old TV from the store, and Dad had installed a cheap set of curtains in the living room. They were
n’t her style, but they covered the window and blocked the stark view of the parking lot. The view from her bedroom was better. Once the trees shed their leaves in the fall, she’d be able to see the river.
She’d gotten a first-floor unit, and unfortunately there were some active children upstairs. She’d hoped for the quiet and security of the second floor, but at least the door came with a thumb-turn lock, a sturdy dead bolt, and a chain. Plus she could tromp around as her pregnancy advanced without worrying about disturbing anyone. Not to mention the coming pitter-patter of toddler feet.
You will not be in this dingy apartment by then. You’ll have your cozy home, complete with fireplace and fenced-in yard.
She took a deep whiff and scrunched her nose. She’d almost managed to rid the apartment of the musty odor by airing it out, vacuuming with a deodorizer, and setting out bowls of white vinegar—her mom’s suggestion. The remaining odor would probably disappear when she could afford to clean the carpets.
She fanned herself with the novel she’d started the day before. The air conditioner never seemed to keep up with demand. After she’d cooled a bit, she walked down the hall, scowling at the brown carpet, and entered the soon-to-be nursery. A box of baby stuff from the rummage sale sat in the corner. The stark white walls begged for a coat of fresh yellow paint, and the bare window awaited gauzy white curtains.
A knock sounded at the front door. She checked the time as she went to see who it was. Almost eight. Her stomach released a loud growl as if reminded it was past suppertime. A trip to the grocery would have to wait until her next paycheck. For now it was mostly rice, yogurt, and apples.
She checked the peephole and caught Daniel’s profile. She smiled, sweeping open the door. “Really? You don’t get enough of me at work?”
He held out a sack from the Burger Barn. “I come bearing food.”
“In that case.” She moved aside, letting him past.
He took about two strides and entered the kitchen-slash-dining room. “Hey, you’ve been busy.”
“You may as well come back in here,” she said, stopping by the sofa. “No table.”
“Living room, it is.”
“How’d you know I hadn’t eaten?”
“I heard your stomach growl from the coffee shop. They’re missing you, by the way.”
“Well, my feet don’t miss them.” She emptied the bag, inhaling, the delicious aroma of grilled cheeseburgers and fries making her as giddy as a ten-year-old at Six Flags.
He handed her a jumbo-sized drink.
Chocolate shake. Her favorite. “I’m going to get fat.”
“You’re eating for three. Besides, the babies wanted chocolate.”
“Oh, really?”
“They told me earlier today.”
She rolled her eyes and tucked into her burger, settling back on the couch. Daniel took the other end, scanning the sofas. “They match your car.”
“The color is an insult to greens everywhere, say it.”
He grinned. “Maybe it’ll come back in style.”
“It’s the color of canned peas,” she said around a bite of burger.
“It’s comfortable, and it’s in good shape. It feels like springs too. Quality stuff.”
“Who knew rich people had such bad taste?”
“You got curtains up. And a TV.” He frowned as he stuffed fries in his mouth. “Does that thing really work?”
“Ryan put a cable box or something on it. The picture’s like looking through gauze, but it’s better than nothing.”
“We should start hitting up some garage sales to fill out this place.”
“My funds have kind of dried up. I have the basics. I need to focus on the nursery. I’m kind of on a deadline, in case you hadn’t noticed.” She smoothed her hand over her stomach.
“They moving much today?”
“Like a couple acrobats. They like the shake, by the way.”
“What’d I tell you?”
Their conversation bounced from work to family and to what they were reading and who was going to be in the World Series. When they finished eating, Daniel picked up her guitar and started picking, eventually drifting into “Love in Vain.”
“Nice chops. You’ve been practicing.”
When he finished the song, he handed it to her. “It’s the master’s turn.”
“Listen to you. You taught me to play.”
“And you passed me up in about three weeks.”
She shook her head as her fingers found their places on the strings. She played a new riff she’d been working on. “My belly’s getting in the way. In a few weeks there’ll be no room for the guitar.”
“How are you sleeping?”
“Good.”
She caught his skeptical look and shrugged. “Lots of new sounds to get used to.” The foreign noises still woke her. When her neighbors closed their entry doors, her own door shook in the frame. The noise had her bolting upright in bed the first time it had happened.
“I’m not used to the elephants yet,” she said.
He lifted a brow.
“My neighbors upstairs. They must be out tonight, otherwise you’d hear them practicing their handstands.” She moved her fingers over the strings effortlessly, enjoying the familiar strains.
Daniel settled against the sofa back, tapping his foot to the tune. “Nice. A new one?”
“It’s called ‘Pregnancy Blues.’ ” She shifted from a C to a G7.
“I want to hear the lyrics.”
“No you don’t.” She looked up in time to catch his smile, then finished with a G chord. “That’s all I got.”
She plucked out a few of the songs she’d written in Chicago, settling into a groove. Playing had always relaxed her. She hadn’t had much time since she’d arrived in town. She hadn’t realized how much she missed it until now. Her fingering improved the more she played, but she’d lost some of her calluses, and her fingertips were starting to burn.
“You’re so gifted,” he said when she set the guitar aside. “You should be playing concerts with crowds of adoring fans instead of working in a stuffy office with a tyrant boss.”
She smiled at him. “He’s not so bad. Anyway . . . I tried the music thing. It didn’t work out so well. So I’m playing for me now. It’s more fun anyway.”
“You should start teaching again.”
“When am I going to have time for that after the babies are born?”
“Good point.”
He checked his watch. It had gotten late, and it was a work night. Even so, she didn’t want him to go. The apartment was lonely, and she knew she’d lie awake for hours, her heart thumping at every bump and creak.
He stood. “I brought you a little housewarming gift.”
“Daniel. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I’ll be right back. Don’t move.” He left the apartment, turning the dead bolt behind him so the door didn’t quite shut.
She hoped he hadn’t spent a lot. He’d already done so much. He was so generous. Sometimes she wondered how he’d escaped the privileges of his childhood without becoming entitled or spoiled. Somehow his grandma had grounded him. Heaven knew it hadn’t been his parents’ influence.
His head poked through the door. “Close your eyes.”
She rolled her eyes but did as he said.
The door whooshed shut. His feet shuffled across the carpet. “No peeking.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Everything went quiet. Not even the air stirred around her. She waited another minute. What was taking so long?
“Daniel?”
“Keep them shut.” He was nearby.
She felt his hand on her elbow. “Come with me.”
“Where?” she asked, standing.
He turned her toward the TV. “You’re not peeking, are you?”
“Never.”
His hands on her shoulders, he guided her. “Keep going.”
She shuffled slowly. “I’m going to hit the
TV.”
“You’re nowhere near the TV. Have some trust, woman.”
She kept going, enjoying the solid weight of his hands on her shoulders, the clean scent of him nearby.
A moment later, he stopped her. “Okay, open your eyes.”
They were in the nursery. Her eyes fell on a new object in the corner by the window.
“A rocking chair!” It was mission-style, stained a dark, rich brown.
“If you don’t like it—”
“I love it.”
His hands fell from her shoulders as she moved forward. She ran her fingers over the smooth wood. She’d planned to look for a used one once her funds grew. There was nothing used about this one. Not a single scratch marred the beautiful finish. Tags hung from the arm, though the price sticker had been stripped away. She had an idea how much it had cost. She’d initially looked for baby furniture online, a reality check.
“It’s too much.”
“No it wasn’t. I promise.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
She pushed it, watching it glide silently back and forth. He’d done so much for her. The emotional support and doctor’s visits, letting her use the office shower and microwave, giving her a job, the advance, and now this. Way above and beyond.
She turned and embraced him, squeezing tight. His arms went around her, settling on her lower back. She was so lucky to have him in her life. He was a rock. An anchor.
She gave him a final squeeze and backed away, planting a kiss on his cheek.
Except he turned at the last minute. Her lips missed their mark, landing firmly on his mouth. And clung there a beat too long. His lips were soft and responsive. Nice.
She jerked away.
His eyes widened. His lips—just on hers!—parted.
Holy Toledo. She’d just kissed Daniel. She’d kissed Daniel. On the mouth. Just now.
A bubble of laughter rose in her, but she caught it before it escaped. She touched her fingers to her lips.
She wondered if her eyes were as wide as his. Wider. “I’m sorry.”
He blinked, and his eyes shuttered. “My fault.” He stepped back, palming the back of his neck.
Dancing with Fireflies Page 12
