by Brenda Novak
“We’re going to Rebecca’s doctor,” he said. “Delaney’s been to see him, too. They both recommend him. If he won’t let you make payments, I will.”
THREE DAYS LATER, on Wednesday, Katie visited the doctor. According to the nurse, her blood pressure was fine. Her weight gain was on target. There wasn’t any protein in her urine, and the baby seemed to be growing at a healthy rate. She felt she was in good hands and was glad Booker had brought her. Until just before she left. Then the doctor suggested she start childbirth classes right away and asked if she had a friend, parent or significant other who could be her coach.
Katie thought of Mona, Erma, Rebecca, Delaney and Ashleigh. She supposed she could ask one of them. She thought briefly of her mother, too. But no matter how many faces passed through her mind, she kept coming back to one—Booker’s.
Only she couldn’t imagine him in a childbirth class with her, let alone joining her for the actual delivery. And she had no idea how she’d even ask him.
“Is something wrong?” he asked as they drove home.
She hesitated. “No, why?”
“You haven’t said much about the doctor. Did you like him?”
“He was nice.” She kept her eyes on the road.
Booker opened the ashtray, and she knew he was getting one of the toothpicks she’d put in there after grocery-shopping yesterday. “What did they do?” he asked.
“They weighed me, measured the baby, that sort of stuff.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
After another few moments, she could feel his attention on her again and finally turned to face him. “What?”
He opened and closed his right hand, stretching his injured fingers, and she wondered how badly they still hurt. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”
“There’s nothing wrong,” she said. Except that she was terrified. Terrified of having a child she wasn’t prepared for. Terrified to experience so many “firsts” on her own. She had three months before the baby was due. Then she’d be facing the actual delivery, getting up at night to nurse, worrying about Sudden Infant Death Syndrome and jaundice and all the other things that could go wrong with an infant. And she was living with her ex-boyfriend….
Suddenly her existence seemed very precarious indeed. She’d been so excited about learning how to build Web sites, so optimistic, that she’d grown complacent and hadn’t really considered what her life would be like in the very near future. How was she going to care for a newborn and launch a business?
She didn’t have a bassinet or a crib. She didn’t even have a diaper bag.
“Have you ever been around a new baby?” she asked.
He studied her, frowning, obviously trying to guess at her thoughts. “No.”
Just as she’d figured. What if he didn’t like all the fussing? What if he asked her and the baby to leave?
When I run out of beds, you’ll be the first to go….
She knew Booker hadn’t been completely serious when he made that statement, but there were no promises between them. He’d loosely given her six months, but he could ask her to leave at any point and probably would the moment he met a woman he wanted to date. Then where would she go? How would she take care of her baby?
For the first time since she’d gotten pregnant, Katie considered the unthinkable. Was she really the best person to raise this child?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
BOOKER HAD SET UP KATIE’S computer system on Monday. She’d installed all the software then, too, but it had taken several more days to receive Internet service. Now, on Friday, she was finally up and running and wanted to build a sample Web site and experiment with her new tools. But she couldn’t seem to concentrate. Ever since her doctor’s appointment, she found herself staring off into space for long stretches of time, wondering what would be best for her child.
Certainly a complete family would provide a better foundation. She didn’t need a psychologist to tell her that. A married couple with a home, at least one job between them, and some savings. A couple just like Josh and Rebecca.
But Katie didn’t know how she could ever let her baby go. Even to Josh and Rebecca.
The telephone rang. She picked it up, knowing it was Booker. She’d called him earlier, just because she needed to hear his voice. But he’d been dealing with a customer and Delbert had taken a message.
“Hello?”
“You called?”
He sounded busy, which made her feel guilty for bothering him.
“I wanted to tell you I got my Internet service this morning.”
“The satellite company came through, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Great. So what are you working on?”
She frowned at the blank screen. “A sample Web site. I—I need to get some stuff out there to show prospective clients.”
“Sounds like a good idea.”
There was a long silence. She knew Booker was waiting for her to either finish the call or tell him whatever she’d phoned to tell him. But she wasn’t sure what that was. She just needed…something.
“I’ll let you go,” she said.
He hesitated. “Katie?”
“What?”
“You feelin’ okay?”
She closed her eyes. “Yeah, sure,” she said and hung up.
JON SMALL, HIS WIFE AND two kids lived in a nice rambler on a piece of land not far from his parents’ place, his brother’s, and his cousin’s. Booker knew the whole Small clan and didn’t like any of them. They were part of a Good Ol’ Boy network that valued loyalty over honesty, an attitude that reminded him too much of some of the supremacist groups he’d encountered in prison. They put a different face on it, of course, but that hypocrisy bothered Booker more than anything else.
Getting out of his truck, he shoved his keys in his pocket and strode up to Jon’s front door. He was worried about Katie and the way she’d sounded on the phone earlier. He should go back to the shop, pick up Delbert and Bruiser, and get home. But he had a few things to say to Jon first.
Jon’s wife, Leah, answered his knock. As soon as she saw who it was, she hid behind the door and peered out at him like a frightened child. “Booker? What are you doing here?”
Booker didn’t bother disliking the women in the Small family. Mostly he felt sorry for them. They had money and maybe even a little prestige, thanks to Daddy Dave. But Jon and his brother drank a lot and Booker suspected, judging by how quiet and withdrawn their wives were, that the men tended to be controlling and possibly even abusive.
“I’m looking for your husband,” he said. “Is he home?”
“What do you want with him?” she asked. “We don’t need any trouble. We’ve got kids here.”
“I’m not out to cause trouble. I just want to talk.”
“He…he’s not here.”
“That isn’t his truck sitting in the driveway?” Booker motioned to the brand-new Chevy he’d seen Jon driving around town.
With a sigh, Leah closed the door. Booker heard the bolt slide home, but he was willing to wait patiently. He knew Jon would eventually appear. The man felt too safe not to agree to see him. And not losing face mattered a great deal to the Smalls.
Sure enough, Jon appeared a few minutes later—with a split lip and a black eye to show for their fight a week ago. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
Booker jerked his head toward the yard. “You got a minute?”
Jon didn’t seem nearly as brave now that he was sober and on his own. He cast a glance at his wife, who stood behind him, then stepped outside and closed the door.
“We’ve never had any problems between us in the past, Booker,” he said, his voice low. “I don’t see why that has to change now.”
“It doesn’t have to change, Jon, so long as you remember one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Stay the hell away from Delbert Dibbs. Otherwise, the situation will end a lot worse than it did last
time.”
“Why are you getting involved?” he asked. “Delbert’s not family to you. Granted, we were a little drunk and stupid, but we were just having fun.”
“I’m telling you to have your fun a different way from now on.”
A truck pulled up in the driveway. Jon’s brother, whom everyone called Smalley because of his name and the fact that he weighed nearly three hundred pounds, got out. “What’s going on here, Jon?” he said.
Booker knew Smalley hadn’t shown up by chance. Jon, or maybe Leah, had called him.
Jon didn’t answer, but he stood a little taller and swelled his chest. “You’re a crazy son of a bitch to come out here and threaten me, you know that, Booker?” he said, his voice strident for the first time since Booker had arrived. “If you’re not careful, you’re really going to piss me off.”
“Do I look like I care?” Booker turned his gaze to Smalley, so they’d know his message was meant for both of them. “Just leave Delbert alone. Or you boys’ll be asking for more trouble than you can handle.” With a wave at Leah, who was watching them through the living room window, he walked away.
WHEN BOOKER GOT HOME, Delbert and Bruiser in tow, Katie was upstairs at her computer. He knew she’d heard him come in when she hollered to say there was some coleslaw in the fridge to go with the rolls, and ribs and barbecue beans waiting in the oven. But she didn’t leave her room. Booker didn’t see her all through dinner, or even afterward while he was watching TV.
It was understandable that she’d be preoccupied. She finally had everything she needed to get her Web site business going. But he’d become accustomed to her attention and—he twisted on the couch to look up the stairs—she hadn’t even bothered to stick her head into the hall.
“You want Katie to come down?” Delbert asked. “You want her to play chess with you?”
“I was just wondering what she’s doing,” Booker muttered. He was definitely more transparent than he’d realized if Delbert could pick up on his thoughts. With a scowl, he went back to watching A Few Good Men while Delbert played with Bruiser.
After another thirty minutes, Delbert went to his room, presumably to play the X-Box Booker had bought him for Christmas, which he loved. Booker watched the news, but he could hardly remember how he’d occupied his nights before Katie had shown up again.
Glancing at the clock, he decided that maybe he should go to the Honky Tonk. It was Friday night after all, and he hadn’t been out in weeks. Ashleigh Evans had brought him a chocolate shake at the garage earlier, wanting to know if he’d be in town tonight.
He cast another glance up the stairs toward Katie’s room. He didn’t really want to go anywhere, but he wasn’t about to let himself get too comfortable with his new roommate. Certainly he wasn’t going to allow himself to depend on her in any way….
Using the remote to turn off the television, he went to take a shower.
HOLDING A COLD BEER, Booker leaned an elbow on the bar as he studied the crowd. The music pouring from the jukebox was loud, patriotic and definitely country, but it had a good beat. He found himself enjoying it, even though he’d always been more of a classic rock fan. He supposed, given a few more years in Dundee, he’d be wearing a hat and a pair of cowboy boots, too.
Billy Joe and Bobby Westin were playing a game of darts with a couple of girls who looked too young to be drinking, let alone hanging out with men in their thirties. Mike Hill sat in the corner with a couple of business types. Folks came from all over to check out the Hill brothers’ breeding enterprise. And since the Running Y Resort, Conner Armstrong’s golf course and dude ranch, had opened up last spring, there were more strangers in town than ever before, even during the winter, thanks to the discounted rates through the cold months.
The constant influx of fresh faces created some interesting possibilities and was certainly good for Dundee’s economy. For the first time in twenty years, the Honky Tonk had built on and they’d added a mechanical bull. A few preppy types were trying to ride the bull now. Booker usually enjoyed seeing them get thrown, but nothing seemed to hold his interest tonight. He couldn’t forget Katie. He wondered what she was doing, if she was finished yet, if she might be ready for a game of chess. Bored and angry with himself that he’d prefer a quiet night with her to drinking and dancing and mingling, he forced himself to stay longer.
But he regretted that decision the moment he heard someone yell, “Hey, Andy, how was San Francisco?”
Andy? Booker’s blood ran cold as he turned and saw Andy Bray standing with his cousins at the end of the bar. How he’d missed spotting him earlier, Booker wasn’t sure. Except that Andy had changed quite a bit. He’d pierced his nose and wore large silver hoops in his ears. His dark hair, which was very short in the back, had a blond streak in front that fell almost to his chin, effectively covering most of his face. Dressed in a wrinkled white shirt, black pants and black platform dress shoes, he looked like something out of The Matrix Reloaded.
So the great pretender was back. Booker should have expected it.
Torn between the prospect of breaking Andy’s jaw and simply walking out, he pushed his beer away. Then he pulled his drink toward him again, downed the rest and ordered another. He wasn’t going to get involved. He didn’t care if Andy was in town. Why should he? He’d been trying to help Katie, as a friend. That was all. He had no emotional stake in her situation beyond that. Which meant he had nothing to lose, right?
Right. Booker was just finishing his second beer when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“There you are,” Ashleigh said. “I guess a girl’s got to beg to get you to come to the Honky Tonk these days, huh?” She smiled coyly, batting her eyelashes at him, and he decided he’d been crazy to closet himself away at the farmhouse for the past few weeks. What had he been thinking—that his life had somehow changed?
“Did you want me to come out tonight for a reason?” he asked.
She blinked at his sudden frankness, probably because he’d been so careful not to let her corner him in the past. But she recovered quickly. Striking a sexy pose, she slid her tongue along her top lip as she looked him up and down. “I think you know what I want,” she said.
Booker finished off his beer and tossed some money on the bar to pay for it. “Why don’t you spell it out for me?” He wasn’t in the mood for games. Seeing Andy again had created a sense of déja` vu that made him inexplicably angry. He kept hearing Katie say, “Andy tells me I’ll feel differently in a few months,” kept seeing her door close in his face, kept feeling as if a horse had just kicked him in the gut.
Ashleigh leaned closer, giving him an ample view of cleavage. “I want to know if you’re really as good as your reputation.”
That spelled things out, all right. “And tomorrow?” he said, wondering what kind of price tag came with the offer.
“No strings attached. But if we have a good time, I suppose anything can happen….”
Booker could hear Andy boasting about the splash he’d made in the big city. “You’re sure?” he said to Ashleigh, wanting to give her one last chance to change the rules.
“I’m positive.”
“Then I say we dance.” Taking her by the arm, he shut out the father of Katie’s baby, forced Katie herself out of his mind and led Ashleigh onto the dance floor.
BOOKER WOKE UP IN Ashleigh’s bed early the next morning and groaned as memories of the night before assailed him. For the first time since Hatty died, he’d gotten terribly drunk and gone back to his old behavior. But it hadn’t felt any more meaningful, despite his long sabbatical. And in the end, he hadn’t been able to go through with it, anyway.
God, now he knew just how far gone he really was….
Sitting up, he winced against a raging headache and squinted at Ashleigh, who rolled over and flung her arm toward him. When she didn’t encounter anything but empty space, she turned onto her stomach and propped herself up on one elbow. “Hi,” she said with a sleepy grin.
Booker
pictured Katie at the farmhouse with her round, pregnant belly, and tried to convince himself that Ashleigh was more appealing. But Ashleigh couldn’t replace Katie now any more than she could last night.
Inhaling a deep breath, he scrubbed a hand over his face. “Hi.”
She raked her fingers through her long tousled hair. “What are you doing up so early?”
“I have to work.”
“What?” She sat up without bothering to pull the sheet with her, but even the sight of her bare breasts did little to kick-start Booker’s flagging libido. “You can’t leave yet,” she said with a whine. “You were too drunk to do anything last night. You passed out the second I got your clothes off.”
Actually, he hadn’t passed out quite that quickly. He’d closed his eyes while trying to talk his body into cooperating—and had slipped away only after meeting with complete and utter failure.
“Come here.” She slid closer and tried to wrap her arms around his waist, but Booker had no intention of letting her pull him back into bed. He hadn’t been with a woman in almost two years, but that didn’t seem to make any difference. He still wanted only Katie.
Standing, he said, “Sorry, I’ve got to go.”
When Ashleigh saw that he was serious, she gave him a grin designed to tempt him and let her gaze wander over his body. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?”
Surprised, Booker glanced up at her while pulling on his pants. “I’ve been called a lot of things,” he said. “But that’s generally not one of them.”
“Then you haven’t been listening to the right people.”
He chuckled, wishing he felt something for Ashleigh. But he didn’t.
Stacking the pillows behind her, Ashleigh started to pout when her words didn’t have the desired effect of enticing him back into her bed.
Booker finished dressing, then hesitated, wondering how to end their botched one-night stand. Did she expect him to kiss her goodbye? He just wanted to leave, but he was afraid that would be unkind. So he compromised by giving her a light peck on the forehead. “Sorry it didn’t work out.”
