by Beth Andrews
He pinched the bridge of his nose as he focused on keeping his voice even. “Then why did you come to me this morning?”
“Because I…God…I’m such an idiot.” Then she met his eyes and shocked him for the second time that day. “I wanted you to ask me to marry you.”
CHAPTER FOUR
BRADY GRIMACED. The man actually grimaced, his face going so white, J.C. thought for sure he was about to pass out. At the thought of marrying her. Jerk.
“I don’t think marriage is the best thing,” Brady said in a low rumble. “For either of us.”
Yeah, no kidding. But he didn’t have to act as if it were the worst thing, either.
“I wouldn’t marry you even if you tied me up and threatened to force-feed me a hamburger,” J.C. said. “I wouldn’t marry you if we were the last two humans left and the only way to save mankind was—”
“I get it. Then why did you say you did?”
“I said I wanted you to ask me.” Noticing Daisy devouring the remainder of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich, J.C. bent and picked it up, much to her cat’s annoyance. She met Brady’s eyes. “You should’ve at least asked.”
She went into the kitchen, tossing the sandwich into the garbage before getting herself a glass of water from the sink. Staring at her reflection in the small window, she held her glass with two hands to steady it as she drank when what she really wanted was to put her head on the counter and weep.
God, could this day get any worse? Her grandmother was ashamed of her, her parents disappointed. And while she’d certainly disappointed them in the past, her failings—while numerous—had never been anything of this magnitude. But the worst part had been Liz’s reaction. Her sister was hurt. So hurt J.C. wondered if she’d ever forgive her.
Which was a crazy thought. No matter how badly J.C. screwed up, Liz was always there for her.
And Liz always forgave her.
Brady’s reflection joined hers as he stepped into the doorway.
“Why did you sleep with me, J.C.?”
She choked and bent over the sink to spit out the water in her mouth. Coughed to clear her airway. “What?”
“Did you…” Walking into the room, he shoved a hand through his hair, causing it to stand on end. “Did you do this…on purpose?”
Her eyes widened. The glass slipped out of her fingers, but Brady caught it. Not that it mattered. What was a broken glass when her life was falling apart?
“You think I wanted to get pregnant? I’m only twenty-six. That’s way too young to become a mother. I hadn’t planned on kids until I was older.” Her voice rose and she waved her hand in the air. “Mid-thirties, maybe. Married. I have plans. Dreams I need to fulfill before I get tied down with motherhood.”
She bit her tongue before she told him everything. How she was unprepared to become a mother. And worse, how unhappy she was about this pregnancy. How guilty she felt over feeling the way she did.
She sure didn’t need his crazy accusations adding to her stress. “Why on earth would you think I did this on purpose?”
He looked at the glass in his hands and, as if realizing he still held it, set it on the counter. “When you were a kid you seemed to have a…a crush on me—”
“You knew?” she asked weakly. “Did Liz know?”
He nodded.
Buzzing filled her ears. “I can imagine how much fun you two had laughing about it, about me. Poor chubby, silly Jane and her unrequited love for one of the beautiful people. Doesn’t she have delusions of grandeur?”
“Neither one of us laughed at you,” Brady said. “I was flattered.”
“Flattered?” she repeated tonelessly. Groaning, she bent at the waist and covered her face with her hands, her curls falling forward to hide her face. “Oh, my God. Just kill me now. You’re a Marine, you must know a hundred different ways to do it quickly and painlessly.”
She heard him step forward but before she could move, he wrapped his fingers around her wrists and gently pried her hands from her face. “Did you sleep with me so we could…because you hoped we’d get together?”
Straightening quickly, the blood rushed to her head and she swayed. “You got me,” she said, tugging free of his hold. “What started out as a childhood crush developed into a mad infatuation that’s lasted all these years. So when you showed up at my sister’s wedding, uninvited, unwanted and drunk, how could I resist? And the rumors about you drinking every night, getting into fights and sleeping your way through the females of Jewell make you all the more enticing. Now I not only get an unwanted pregnancy, but I’m also a notch on Brady Sheppard’s bedpost. It’s like a dream come true.”
“I’m trying to understand how this happened. Didn’t we use a condom?”
“What do you remember of that night?” she asked, her stomach sinking.
“You came up to me at the bar at the country club and asked me to leave, so I did.” He frowned and stared off in the distance. “Then, when you found out I planned on walking home, you offered to drive me…”
She waited. And waited. “You don’t even remember.”
“Bits and pieces,” he admitted, having the decency to look abashed.
“Let me give you the CliffsNotes version. I took you home and made you some coffee. We started talking and then you kissed me. You. Kissed. Me.” She pointed her finger at him with each word. “Not the other way around.”
“Janie, I—”
“It was sort of…intense. One minute we were kissing, and the next…” She shrugged. “The next we were having sex.”
And she’d been so wrapped up in the fact that Brady wanted to be with her—and then so devastated by how it’d ended—she didn’t even realize they hadn’t used protection until she got home.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked quietly, his expression giving none of his thoughts away. “I didn’t…I didn’t force you, did I?”
“No. Of course not.”
He shut his eyes briefly. Had he seriously thought he’d forced her?
“I knew what I was doing,” she continued. And now she had to take responsibility for that decision. “But I didn’t get pregnant on purpose and I have no desire to trap you into marriage. Right now I’m not even sure I want to see you again.” She pushed herself upright, locked her knees so they wouldn’t tremble but couldn’t stop her voice from shaking. “So now would probably be a good time for you to leave.” When he didn’t so much as blink, she pointed to the door. “Get out.”
“Not until we come up with the terms for a financial agreement.”
“The terms are I’ll take care of this baby and you can pretend we don’t exist.” Because the reality was, she didn’t know if she wanted to keep this baby. The poor thing hadn’t been born yet, and so far neither its mother nor father wanted anything to do with it. How messed up was that?
There was so much involved in having a baby. Diapers. Doctors’ visits. Day care. And she’d never once considered being a single parent, of being solely responsible for another life. She had enough trouble taking care of herself.
“Having a child is expensive,” he said as if she hadn’t spoken. “How are you going to manage?”
She swallowed. Worked to keep her expression disdainful so he couldn’t see the terror she was trying to hide. “Unlike you, I have a job.”
Nothing. No reaction to her dig. The man really was made of stone. “I’m guessing tellers aren’t the highest paid employees at the bank.”
True. Another point to consider if she decided to keep the baby. She had a hard enough time making ends meet now. The only reason she could even afford this apartment was because her grandmother was her landlord. How would she support not only herself but a baby?
She clutched his arm above his elbow and pulled him toward the door. His muscles tensed under her fingers but he didn’t resist.
She opened the door, and the cool rush of crisp autumn air helped settle her stomach. And her nerves. “Goodbye, Brady.”
“I want
to help.”
“Why?”
He seemed taken aback. “Because it’s my responsibility.”
More exhausted than she’d ever been in her life, she shook her head. “I’m officially absolving you of any and all responsibility, then.”
Yes, she usually accepted any and all help getting herself out of the many jams she managed to get into, but she didn’t want him trying to assuage his guilt by tossing money her way. Bad enough he’d only slept with her because he’d been drunk…and that she’d slept with him when he’d really wanted Liz. She’d be damned if she’d take his pity, too. And that was all this was. But it wasn’t enough.
Seemed she had some pride, after all.
“Damn it, Jane, you’re—”
“You’ve done your part. If anyone asks, I’ll be sure to tell them how you tried to get me to see reason. Go back to feeling sorry for yourself in your dark, dirty house. Drown yourself in Jim Beam for all I care.” She nudged him outside so she could shut the door and put an end to this horrible day. “This baby doesn’t need anything from you. And neither do I.”
BRADY PULLED UP to the cottage and shut off the ignition. Every light in the place was on, and seeing as how they’d all been off when he’d left, that—plus the black sports car parked out front—meant one thing. He had company.
Damn, he hated company.
As he got out of the truck, his leg buckled. He tried to catch himself on the door but wasn’t fast enough. He fell on his bad knee, landing hard on the cold ground. Gulping down air so he wouldn’t howl with the pain, he pulled himself back up and reached into the cab for his cane. Slowly he made his way across the gravel to the front door.
He heard them as soon as he stepped inside. Seemed both his brothers had come calling. He stood there for a moment, the front door still open in case he changed his mind and decided to make a run for it anyway.
A nice dream, considering he could barely stand.
One of them—Matt, from the sound of it—laughed, the sound easily carrying throughout the small house. Brady scowled. How many times over the past few years had he wished he could be home for the holidays? Times when he would’ve given anything to come back to Jewell, if even for a day, to see Liz and his brothers and mother. Now he’d do anything to avoid them.
Too bad a few of them couldn’t take a freaking hint.
Leaving the cane by the door, he went into the kitchen. Aidan, his older brother, leaned against the sink, his legs crossed at the ankles, not a wrinkle on his khakis or dark blue dress shirt. He didn’t say a word when he noticed Brady, just raised an eyebrow over eyes the same light blue as Brady’s.
“Why are the windows open?” Brady asked.
Sitting on the counter, wearing dark jeans and a lightweight, V-neck sweater, his light brown hair pulled back into a stubby ponytail, the youngest Sheppard grinned. “Because it smells like you’re hiding a dead body in here,” Matt claimed.
“Not yet,” Brady muttered. “But the night’s young.” He tossed his keys onto the cluttered table. “Why are you here?”
“Happy Thanksgiving to you, too.” He slid off the counter, landing with an ease Brady hated him for. “Missed you at dinner.”
Brady grabbed a bottle of pain relievers from the table. He couldn’t take one of his prescriptions, not with Aidan watching, but maybe adding a few of these to the ones J.C. had given him would do the trick.
Opening an upper cupboard, he frowned. He could’ve sworn he had a bottle of Jack Daniel’s in there. Shoving aside a box of cookies he didn’t even remember buying, he shifted his weight onto his right leg. “You two ever hear of a little thing called trespassing?”
“Heard of it,” Matt said with his usual freaking good cheer. “But it doesn’t count when we’re all equal owners in this place.”
“Your leg bothering you?” Aidan asked.
“It’s good.”
“You sure? Because you seem—”
“I said it’s good.” And since he was being watched, being judged, he carefully shut the cupboard door before opening the next one to find a few mismatched plates and bowls. But no bottle. His hand shook as he moved on to cupboard number three. “I’m not in the mood for company.”
“There’s a news flash,” Aidan murmured.
“Go away.”
“Now is that any way to treat the people who brought you Thanksgiving dinner complete with half a pumpkin pie?” Matt asked.
“I don’t like pumpkin pie,” he said, searching the meager contents of his fridge for the six-pack of beer he’d bought the other day. Damn but he needed a drink.
“I do.” Matt reached over Brady’s shoulder and took out the pie. “Don’t worry, Mom sent over two big slices of pecan pie, too.”
“Looking for something?” Aidan asked.
It was his tone that clued Brady in. He leaned his arm against the fridge. Shit. They’d cleaned him out.
“This your idea of an intervention?”
“What do you mean?” Aidan asked, unbuttoning a sleeve and rolling it up.
Brady’s eyes narrowed. The smug son of a bitch. “What’s the matter?” he goaded. “You’re not man enough to admit you snuck in here and hid all of my booze?”
Repeating the process with the other sleeve, Aidan stepped forward, his unhurried strides at odds with the cold, hard expression on his face. “I didn’t hide it. I trashed it. Dumped it down the sink. When are you going to be man enough to admit you’ve got a problem?”
Hands fisted at his sides, Brady limped forward until he and Aidan were nose to nose. “Why don’t you go—”
“Back it up,” Matt said, stepping between them. A surreal experience considering Brady used to be the one breaking up fights between the other two. “Remember Mom and Dad always said you have to set a good example for me.”
The urge to throw a punch still vibrating through him, Brady went back to the fridge. He took out several of the plastic containers his brothers had brought along with a half-empty jar of mayonnaise. “What do you want?”
“Why didn’t you show up for dinner?” Aidan asked. He sounded so much like their deceased father.
Sounded like Tom Sheppard, but wasn’t. No matter how hard he tried.
“I was busy.”
Setting everything on the counter, he swallowed a couple of the pain relievers before shoving aside a dirty frying pan and a stack of plates. He pulled out a few slices of bread from the loaf behind the toaster, checked for mold then searched for a halfway clean knife.
“You’re lucky Mom didn’t come here instead of us,” Matt said. “She’d kick your ass if she saw this kitchen.”
Sweat broke out above his lip at the thought of his mother seeing firsthand how messed up he was. “I’m all sorts of lucky,” he agreed, slathering mayo on the bread.
“Mom cried.”
Brady froze, his grip tightening on the knife. “I told her I couldn’t come.”
“It’s Thanksgiving,” Aidan continued. “The first one in years where you’ve been on the same continent and you didn’t show up.”
Brady slowly, deliberately, set the knife down. Opening all the containers, he found turkey, stuffing and sweet potatoes. He piled turkey onto a slice of bread. “Don’t push it,” he said, his voice quiet. “I’ve had a really shitty day.”
And he didn’t need his sanctimonious brother heaping the guilt on, he thought as he topped the turkey with stuffing and another slice of bread. Hell, he felt so much guilt right now, any more and he’d explode.
“Worse than watching your mother leave Thanksgiving dinner in tears because your selfish, idiot brother didn’t bother to show?” Aidan asked.
Brady sat at the table, took a bite and pretended to think that question over as he chewed. “Yeah. Worse than that. Besides, something came up that I had to take care of.”
“What could be so important that you skipped out on a holiday family dinner?”
Taking his time, Brady had another bite of sandwich before
he answered. “I’d say the woman who’s going to have my baby was more important.”
Blessed silence.
“You’re kidding,” Matt finally said.
“Serious as Aidan gets about…well…everything.”
“Who?” Aidan asked.
A piece of turkey seemed to be stuck in his throat. He cleared it. “Jane Montgomery.”
Another beat of silence. Then Aidan shook his head. “You slept with J.C.? Are you insane?”
“I’d sleep with her,” Matt interjected.
Both Brady and Aidan stared at him. “What?” he asked, offended. “I would. She’s got a body like one of those old-time movie stars. And that mouth of hers? The combination of that sexy mouth with those big brown eyes?” He nodded, a half smile on his face. “Oh, yeah, I’d—”
Aidan gave him a hard smack upside the back of the head. “Shut up.”
Matt rubbed the spot. “I’m just saying…”
Sexy mouth? Brady frowned, picturing the way J.C. had looked when she’d shoved him out of her apartment. There hadn’t been anything sexy about her then. He could see where some guys might find her attractive and she did have a certain…warm appeal. But compared to Liz, she was ordinary.
Aidan crossed his arms and glared at Brady. “What are you going to do?”
“Nothing.”
“What do you mean, nothing?”
“J.C. said she and the baby didn’t need me.”
Which should be a relief, right? And what he wanted. No obligations. No ties to either J.C. or the baby.
“Doesn’t matter,” Aidan insisted. “You have a legal right to your child. And now is the perfect time to rethink that job offer we discussed.”
Right. The job offer.
A few weeks ago, Aidan had driven Brady to the V.A. hospital for a checkup. On the way home, he’d offered Brady a position at the Diamond Dust Vineyard, the winery their father had started more than thirty years ago. Aidan had pointed out that Brady had been away from the wine business a long time. And while he’d worked at the winery as a teenager—all three brothers had—a lot had changed in the past twelve years. Change that would take Brady time to catch up on. So he’d suggested Brady ease back into the swing of things by taking over the bookkeeping of the Diamond Dust.
