by Amy Knupp
Right. Except Mr. Everyday looked like God’s answer to Angelina Jolie, and oh, she happened to be carrying his child.
Selena sat on the bed.
Her stomach growled; she was bordering on nausea. He had food — she could smell it from here.
She dried her hair and skipped makeup. If she didn’t get some food now, she might pass out.
Evan sat at one end of the table. In front of him was a loaded double cheeseburger, large fries, and a drink big enough to remedy a national drought. Selena’s place setting held noticeably less food.
“A salad and a little kid’s milk?” she asked, stopping in her tracks.
“It’s a big salad,” he said. “I did my best to keep it healthy for you. I’m sure you don’t want a bunch of grease and fat.”
His intentions were thoughtful, but … no.
“I’m eating for two. As you pointed out earlier.”
“I should’ve ordered a second salad,” Evan said.
“Plus a burger and fries. I could eat a truck.”
His eyes roved over her body and she didn’t miss his appreciation. “Where are you going to put all that?”
Her hand automatically went to her abdomen. “In here. Thank you for trying to keep it healthy, but I’m going to run and get myself more. Sometimes grease is necessary.” Her purse and cell phone were on the counter and she went toward them.
“Sit, Selena. You can have my food.”
“What are you going to eat?”
“I’ll start with your healthy salad unless you’re dying to eat it.”
She shook her head.
“And then I’ll get more when I take you out for ice cream afterward.”
“I don’t need ice cream.”
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“Of course, but—”
“Pregnant women are supposed to eat lots of ice cream. I’m getting you an extra-large sundae from Lambert’s on the beach.”
She considered arguing — their deal had only been for a quick dinner. But … ice cream. It sounded amazing, and now that the idea was in her head, she knew she wouldn’t forget about it until she satisfied the craving. “So much for healthy. I’ll eat the burger. You keep the fries and salad.”
“We’ll split the fries.”
Sitting down, she agreed.
The phone she’d left on the counter rang then — an irritating cacophony of bird tweets and squawks. She knew that ring and the person it signaled all too well.
“I’ll get that for you,” Evan said.
Selena held up her hand. “Don’t. It’s not someone I want to talk to.”
Evan was about to get up and stopped. “So I’m not the only one whose calls you ignore.”
Selena busied herself scooping up an errant splatter of mayo with a fry.
“Is there anyone whose calls you answer?” he asked.
“A few lucky people,” she said noncommittally.
“Who’s the poor sucker lumped into the same category as me? A boyfriend somewhere? An ex?”
“My mother.”
“Ouch.”
“Don’t tell me you never screen your calls,” she said.
“I never screen my calls. I figure they’ll just call back later. Might as well deal with it and get it over with.”
“So you do have people you don’t want to talk to.”
“On occasion. Does the blowing off ever work out for you in the end?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.
“You tried to ignore me and here I am.”
“I could still kick you out.”
“But you won’t. You want that sundae.”
Selena grinned in spite of herself. “You think you know all my secrets now that you’ve found the food button.”
“I know a few of your most private secrets,” he said.
And just like that, her body responded. To mere words, for God’s sake. He wasn’t even sitting that close to her. “I’m not marrying you.”
“I’ve never had to feed a pregnant woman before,” Evan said as if she hadn’t spoken. He grinned and watched with unabashed interest as Selena stuffed the piled-high burger into her mouth.
“Me neither,” she said after chewing. “Seems it’s a big job.”
“Have you had morning sickness?” he asked between mouthfuls of salad.
“Only when I wake up. Crackers take care of it though.”
“The doctor said that’s normal?”
“I haven’t been to a doctor,” Selena admitted. She’d lain awake for hours a couple of nights ago worrying about both her lack of medical care and health insurance.
“That’s important, isn’t it?”
“I’m going soon.”
“Do you have an appointment yet?”
“What is this, twenty questions?”
“What are you hiding?”
Selena opened the squat little milk carton that reminded her of her grade school lunchroom and drained most of it in one go. “I’m not hiding anything. I’m going to the San Amaro County health clinic next week.”
“The free clinic?” Evan’s disbelief startled her.
“Yes.” She raised her chin a notch. She’d never been to a free health clinic in her life, and no matter how hard she tried to tell herself it was fine, it was the perfect symbol of just how much her life had changed in a few weeks.
“You can’t go there,” Evan said.
“I can.” She ate the last bite of burger before adding, “I have to.”
“You should go to an obstetrician.”
“Free clinics have decent doctors on staff. A lot of the kids I worked with in Boston went to the county health clinic and got decent medical care.”
“The one here has problems. They’ve had trouble getting a doctor — apparently there’s a shortage in this area — so they only have a nurse-practitioner most days.”
“What’s wrong with a nurse-practitioner?” She had a general rule of avoiding medical personnel of all kinds, but pregnancy had a way of forcing a girl to get over a medical phobia fast. Selena had already accepted that she’d have to see a lot more of doctors than she wanted for the next few months, but she wasn’t sure about a nurse-practitioner. Evan made it sound scary.
“With most nurse-practitioners, nothing. I just don’t care for the one in the clinic. I went to school with her and know too much about her.”
Anxiety made her feel as if her rib cage were shrinking. “I don’t have money or insurance to pay for a doctor’s appointment,” she said quietly, a sheen of sweat popping out on her forehead.
“If you’d marry me, you’d have the best benefits on the island.”
She slid her chair back and stood. “Can we get that ice cream now? You must still be hungry.”
He stared at her a moment, then wisely stood and took his keys out of his pocket.
They threw away their trash and locked up the house. Evan opened the passenger door of his big black pickup for her and she climbed up to the seat. “Does the size of this thing ever seem like overkill?” she asked as he got in on the driver’s side.
“Nah. Comes in handy.”
“I imagine it’s a big hit with all your legions of dates.”
“What makes you think I have legions of dates?”
“Don’t you?”
He turned his head to look at her and smiled, that sexy half-assed grin that had gotten her into trouble in the first place. “Don’t believe everything you hear.”
A few minutes later, they were in the truck again with their ice cream. He’d ordered a banana split, and Selena had gone for a butter pecan sundae that was as big as her head. The wind was too strong for them to eat outside, and she hadn’t invited him back to her place, so here they sat.
“I’m going to take you to a doctor,” Evan said out of nowhere.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I told you, I don’t have the money.”
“I’m offering
to pay.”
She shook her head without hesitation as she swallowed a spoonful of ice cream. “I can’t accept that.”
“Why not?”
“I hardly know you.”
He stared at her. “You’ve seen my underwear.”
She looked him in the eye, starting to grin. “And then some.”
Their eyes locked for several seconds, and Selena found herself picturing him out of his underwear again.
Evan brushed her hair behind her ear in a gesture that didn’t feel as innocent as it should have. “It’s my baby too. I want both of you to have the best care. Let me do this.”
She wasn’t sure if it was the light, erotic touch of his fingers on her jaw or just a need to have someone else in on this with her, but she found herself nodding. “Just this once.”
oOo
Evan couldn’t deny his desire for this woman. He really needed to control himself around her — coming on strong would do nothing to make her see his way about marriage — but it was as if she’d cast a spell on him. He liked being with her. Liked that she didn’t pull punches. He was relieved she’d finally agreed to go to a real doctor and let him pay. He suspected that wasn’t easy for her.
And damn if he didn’t want to kiss her like crazy right now as she stared at him across the front seat. Her eyes glittered seductively in the moonlight, reeling him in, drawing him closer.
Selena set her sundae dish in the cup holder, and Evan brushed her hair back from her face. He ran his hand to the back of her alluring neck and pulled her lips to his.
He took in her scent — vanilla with a hint of peach — and burrowed his fingers into her soft waves. Their tongues met and just like that, damn, he wanted more. So much more. He breathed her in. Wanted to consume her.
She backed away from the contact too early, and he let her. The slightest touch from her made his blood heat, brought their night together back to him in detailed memories — the softness of her generous breasts under his fingers, the feel of her hair brushing over his chest as she’d ridden him, the way her breath stuttered in her chest as she’d come.
Another few seconds of kissing her wouldn’t be enough.
“You didn’t allow that out of gratitude, did you?” he asked huskily.
“What if I did?” She didn’t quite smile and he couldn’t tell what she was thinking.
“Then I like the way you show your thanks.”
“It wasn’t gratitude. I’d much rather not be indebted to you. Just a slipup. My bad.”
He wove his fingers with hers and pulled her close again, unable to resist touching her. “You aren’t indebted to me, first off. And second, not a thing about that was bad.”
“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. Next thing I know you’ll have a preacher hired.”
He chuckled. “I like to think I wouldn’t have to force a woman to marry me. I have faith you’ll come around.”
“What’d they spike your drink with?”
“Nothing, unfortunately.” He leaned back in his seat to resist the nagging temptation to taste her some more. “Selena, I like kissing you.”
He could see her guard go up — her shoulders stiffened and all signs of levity disappeared from her face.
“That’s a compliment,” he said, unwilling to think about how much he wanted to put a grin back on her face.
She nodded once. She wasn’t going to give him an inch.
“Maybe I’m the densest man alive, but it seems like maybe you like kissing me too.”
“Okay, yeah. I do. Until you get all cocky afterward,” she said stubbornly.
“Here’s the deal. Our future isn’t resolved yet. That M word that sends you into orbit will come up again. But why shouldn’t we let things happen as they happen?”
“Things?”
“Kissing. What have you. If you’re suddenly overwhelmed by the need to crawl all over me, why not?”
Selena seemed to almost laugh but stopped herself. “We need to work on your self-esteem, build it up so you’re not so modest.”
“My point is that we can kiss without having to get married. Can’t we?”
“We just did.” She hadn’t relaxed a bit.
“Okay, then—”
“Try it again at your own risk. Just because I let it happen once doesn’t mean I will again.”
Evan grinned and started up the truck, knowing his fun was over for the evening. “Okay, let’s review,” he said as he drove out of Lambert’s parking lot. “Two things we’ve established tonight. Number one — feed the pregnant woman. A lot. Two — kissing is perfectly acceptable.”
“One out of two isn’t bad. Then add three — drive the pregnant woman home now because she is hormonal, exhausted, and not kissing anymore.”
He glanced over at her and thought how pretty she looked when she copped an attitude.
Changing this woman’s mind was going to be anything but boring.
Chapter Ten
Several days later, Selena shivered as she stared into the eyes of three men long dead.
This was something she hadn’t bargained for when she’d taken on the mural project. She’d opted to start adding color to the center panel of the fire station mural first, maybe subconsciously hoping to get the worst part over with. Maybe she’d known it would shake her up.
Adding details to the firefighters’ eyes had done it. She supposed it was a sign that she’d gotten the sparkle, the life in them just right, but that was little consolation at the moment.
These men had lost their lives on the job. They’d be frozen in time on this wall for years to come, always the same age. David Acevedo had died at thirty-two. Jimmy Adolf at thirty-eight. And Frank Werschler, twenty-seven. Frank, in particular, broke Selena’s heart. He was her age. Younger than Evan. Hadn’t ever gotten to be in his thirties. From what she’d read, he’d left behind a wife and three young children to somehow go on living without him.
Selena knew firsthand the survivors had never gone back to normal. Knew that whatever had happened, they’d had to fill holes the size of the Grand Canyon in their lives. There was no way to ignore the empty chair at the dinner table, no way to avoid the excruciating finality of sorting through the belongings of a loved one.
For her, the aftermath of losing her father, even though he’d been FBI and not a firefighter, had meant the breaking apart of her family. Her mother had changed after that. In one fell swoop, Selena had, in essence, lost both of her parents. She wondered how deep the deaths of these men had rocked their own families’ foundations. Couldn’t help thinking about the price the children and other loved ones ended up paying.
Instinctively, she placed her left hand on her abdomen as fear for her child overcame her. So many things in this life that she might not be able to shield the little one from… How did parents handle that? How did they let go of the fears and focus on the joys? Her mother certainly hadn’t been able to. Why did she think she could do any better?
Tears blinded her as she tried to touch up Frank’s chin. She ended up having to put her brush down. Sucking in heavy, humid air, she struggled to regain her composure.
Selena decided now was as good a time as any to take a break. She went to her bag and pulled out an apple, then circled around to the unpainted backside of the wall. Sitting on the pavement, she sagged against the wall, bone tired.
Part of her mood was first-trimester fatigue, she didn’t doubt, but that was just a fraction of her problem. She pushed herself hard on her paintings each night, working into the early hours to get as many done as she could. She and Macey had discussed the benefits of producing more now in the hope of being able to do less later. After the baby was born.
Her first works of art were currently being produced onto merchandise and would be available in some of the local gift shops within a week. She’d chosen several beach scenes for the company Macey had hooked her up with to create tote and beach bags, coasters, makeup bags, and key chains. Plus she’d secured consign
ment space in a gallery on the island and had four originals up for sale. The high prices the gallery owner had put on her work had shocked her. But she’d tried to hide her reaction, to seem like a seasoned pro — even though before now, she’d never offered a single piece for sale.
The alarm erupted from the fire station. Her body reacted automatically, her heart racing and her mouth going dry.
Evan was on duty.
She sat up straighter so she could watch the truck pull out of the bay. In less than two minutes, the bright red front appeared, and it rolled into the street.
There he was. Backseat, passenger side.
She crossed her fingers that the call ended up being no big deal. A false alarm would be better yet.
Scenes flashed through her mind of burning buildings, choking smoke. Probably from TV shows, and her imagination had been stoked by her own recent fire.
As the truck sped off to the north, the ambulance trailing it, Selena closed her eyes and prayed for Evan’s safety.
“Are you sleeping on the job?”
Selena sprang to attention and opened her eyes, relieved to see it was only Macey walking toward her from the main door of the station.
“How are you so calm?” Selena asked her.
“Why wouldn’t I be? Just took lunch to Derek.” Macey stared at Selena, whose eyes had strayed back to the empty bay. Macey glanced that way. “Oh, the call? Did that upset you?”
“I shouldn’t worry. I barely know him. But you’re engaged. Derek was driving.”
Macey smiled. “Such a boy. He loves driving the truck.”
Selena studied her, searching for some sign of panic. “How do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“How do you watch them drive off toward danger without losing your mind?”
Macey stared up the street where the truck had disappeared and shrugged. “Big fires are rare. The really dangerous stuff doesn’t happen every day.”
“But there’s risk every single time they go out,” Selena said.
“Sure. There’s risk every time one of us gets into a car.” Macey slid her back down the wall and sat next to Selena, who had slumped back down.
