Oh, hell. This man she loved would be leaving in a week. And that would be that. Enjoy him for the here and now, she told herself for the thirtieth time since they’d struck their bargain.
You knew the deal when you kissed on it. Grow up, Mikayla. You have to when the baby comes. Might as well start now. He’s not going to propose. He’s not going to ask to be your baby’s father. He’s who he is. And you’re an independent woman who’s going to make it just fine on your own.
She’d take this Cinderella treatment for the duration of their affair and then it was back to reality.
“Strawberry?” he asked, holding one up to her, no trace of his earlier discomfort in his tone.
Apparently, he’d gotten over those stupid comments and the people mistaking him for her baby daddy or her husband. He wasn’t either of those things, so who really cared, right? That was obviously what had calmed Jensen down.
The man wasn’t in love with her. She was the only fool who’d fallen. And that wasn’t part of their deal. No one was supposed to fall in love. No one was supposed to get hurt.
So that stabbing feeling in the region of her heart? Not pregnancy-related heartburn. Heartache. Heartbreak.
Tomorrow, when they got home, she’d tell him it was over, that this wasn’t working for her anymore. How could it when it was starting to hurt?
Chapter Ten
Jensen considered himself a smart guy. But when it came to Mikayla, he could be a real dummy. For instance, instead of saying, “Ooh, yes, I’ll have some of everything,” to his offer of the hotel’s amazing buffet breakfast with their famed omelet bar, Mikayla had said she just wanted a muffin to go and a decaf latte. He’d taken that at face value.
On the plane back to Rust Creek Falls, she’d said she was feeling tired and closed her eyes the entire trip home. He’d stayed silent to let her rest, taking the free time to respond to business emails, read a couple of industry magazines and scour online maps for possible other locations for the crisis distribution center, since Guthrie Barnes had shut him down. And when the plane was preparing for landing and she’d turned to look out the window, claiming her tummy was a “bit queasy,” and said the same during the drive back to Rust Creek Falls, he’d stopped at a convenience store for a ginger ale, which of course she didn’t drink.
Because she hadn’t been hungry for a corn muffin or tired or queasy. She’d been avoiding him—avoiding looking at him, talking to him, being with him.
The big clue in? When they’d finally arrived at Sunshine Farm and she’d insisted on carrying her own bag inside with a quick “Thank you for a wonderful trip, Jensen” before hurrying in.
Something was wrong. And three hours after dropping her off, when he figured he’d given her the space she obviously needed from him, he’d texted her. No response. He’d called her. Straight to voice mail.
She was pulling away. But why? Hadn’t they had an amazing trip to Vegas—minus some of the people they’d been trapped with in close quarters? Last night they’d taken yet another bubble bath and made love afterward, falling asleep in each other’s arms. Then this morning, the wall went up—without him even realizing it.
Enough of this, he told himself, checking his phone to see if she’d responded. No. He even checked the battery level to make sure his phone hadn’t died. Eighty-seven percent. The woman was avoiding him!
He got in his car and drove back over to Sunshine Farm. Eva answered the door, giving him one of those tight smiles that said she was about to tell him a little white lie.
“Sorry, Jensen, but Mikayla’s resting,” Eva said.
I’m sure she’s not practicing yoga or out jogging, but she’s not resting, Jensen thought, frowning. “Could you let her know I’m here? That I really want to talk to her?”
Eva gave him something of a hopeful shrug and disappeared. She was back in three seconds. “She’s sleeping, actually. I’ll let her know you stopped by.”
He supposed that was possible. Oh, hell, maybe she had just been tired and queasy all day. Like he knew what it was like to be eight months pregnant?
He mentally kicked himself. Why was he such a self-absorbed bastard sometimes? He cared about this woman. “Is she okay?”
Eva smiled. “She’s fine. I think the big trip just caught up with her.”
Or something else did. Self-absorbed or not, Jensen had a feeling he wasn’t entirely wrong. Mikayla was pulling away, and he didn’t like it.
“Okay, well, you’ll let her know I stopped by?” he asked.
“I sure will, Jensen.”
He let out a hard sigh on the way back to his car. He could do one thing, at least. He could make Mikayla more comfortable—physically if not emotionally. He sat down in the driver’s seat, pulled out his phone and ordered her the best adjustable bed on the market, with massage features. Delivery for tomorrow cost a mint, but Mikayla was worth every penny. He most definitely wouldn’t ever have any idea what it felt like to be pregnant, but he wanted Mikayla to be able to rest and sleep well.
He drove back to Walker’s house, hoping his phone would light up with a text or a call from Mikayla, but it didn’t.
It didn’t for the next few hours.
That night, he wanted to talk to her so badly he almost drove over to Sunshine Farm again, prepared to storm the place—not that he’d want to go up against Luke Stockton. But if she wasn’t responding, he had to respect that, right? He had to leave her alone—for the time being, at least. She obviously needed some space from him.
He lay down on the bed in the guest room at Walker’s log palace, edgy and jumping out of his skin. He grabbed his phone and sent her one last text, one that didn’t require a response. But he couldn’t go to sleep without telling her.
Have a great first day of work tomorrow.
By morning, still no response. Another strange sensation gripped him—in his chest, his stomach, his throat. He couldn’t quite place it; it felt almost more emotional than physical. What the hell was it?
Heartache, you idiot, a growly voice hissed at him from somewhere deep within. This is what heartache feels like when you’re the cause of it.
Okay, where the hell had that come from?
Something about it felt very true. But how did it make any sense? He was the cause of his own heartache? Huh? His heart wasn’t even involved. Or an eighth was, since he liked Mikayla so much. The two of them had shaken on an agreement. A fun couple of weeks. No one was supposed to be heartbroken here.
He flipped onto his belly, then flipped back, practically tearing off his T-shirt, since he was suddenly so hot. Steamed. He didn’t like being on the outs with Mikayla. Not one damned bit.
So what was going to happen now? He couldn’t keep calling and texting and showing up when she’d made herself clear. But he couldn’t just let things end like this. He didn’t know what had happened, why she’d pulled away, what he’d done wrong.
He just wanted things to go back to the way they were. Fixing problems is your specialty, Jones, he reminded himself. So figure it out. And fix it.
* * *
Mikayla almost couldn’t believe this was work, that she was getting paid to do this. She sat in a padded rocking chair in the baby room of Just Us Kids Day Care Center, a four-month-old girl with wispy brown curls nestled in her arms. It was just after ten o’clock, and she’d been here since seven, which worked out well, since Mikayla had always been an early riser. She and Bella, her boss, had agreed on a part-time schedule until her baby was born. Then she’d take three months off before coming back full-time, with her little one as an enrollee. She felt so lucky.
And that gratitude was helping her keep her mind off a certain gorgeous, sexy, six-foot-two-inch man. She shouldn’t have let all his calls and texts go unanswered, but she’d been a little annoyed that he’d come barging over yesterday despite her lack of response. The man was cle
arly used to getting what he wanted. Well, she hadn’t been ready to talk to him. She supposed she could have texted that, that she was just getting her head together. But all the texts she’d started hadn’t sounded right.
She knew why, too. Because it was really hard to break your own heart by telling the man you were in love with that you were done with him, that you couldn’t continue your relationship. Mikayla had cried herself to sleep last night. At least babies didn’t mind puffy eyes.
This is what I should be focusing on, she told herself, staring at the tiny, beautiful creature in her arms. This is my future. I’m going to have a baby, and this job, which I’m so lucky and grateful to have, is training for my life.
What the hell had she even been doing in Las Vegas in some bought-for-her slinky dress? That wasn’t real life. That wasn’t her life. This was.
But it was Jensen’s life. And another reminder that they were from very different worlds and had very different futures.
She sure had missed him last night, though. The feel of his arms around her, making her feel so safe and protected, as though she didn’t have a care.
Adorable Jolie Windham, the baby she was feeding, was all done with her bottle and ready to be burped. Mikayla shifted, sitting forward, carefully bringing the baby up to her chest and gently patting her back. She smelled so delicious, and Mikayla loved everything about babies and this job. Jolie gave a big burp for such a little human, and Mikayla rocked her for a while until her eyes began to close. Then she transferred her into her crib. Of course, the moment she put her down, the baby began fussing and then full-out wailing.
“Oh, no, you don’t, little one,” Mikayla whispered, picking up the baby and rocking her a bit more. “You can’t wake up the whole room.” The baby quieted, her eyes closing again, and Mikayla waited until she was fully asleep this time, then put her in the crib.
“You’re a natural,” Bella said, smiling, from where she stood at the changing table with seven-month-old Eric Wexler.
Mikayla beamed. The praise felt good. Being here felt good. When she got her first paycheck, she was sending her cousin Brent a little gift, maybe something very Montana, to thank him for suggesting she start fresh by moving to Rust Creek Falls and for finding her a place to stay. Brent had changed her life, and she owed him big.
Her last hour passed quickly, and then it was time to go. Mikayla wanted to help out a bit, so she took out the whites laundry from the dryer and folded the burp cloths neatly, then said goodbye to her colleagues and boss and headed out.
She checked her phone in her car. Just one text from Jensen today: Thinking about you.
I’m thinking about you, too. Too much. Once she got home, she’d call him and tell him their time together was over.
Last night, he’d texted to wish her good luck on her first day. Thoughtful jerk. Well, okay, he wasn’t a jerk. He was just...who he was. A confirmed bachelor who had no interest in settling down and being a husband and father. Someday, Mikayla would want to find love and a father for her baby. If she could ever fall out of love with Jensen. Forgetting him would take a long, long time.
She headed home, the sight of the farmhouse always making her feel comforted. She waved at Eva, who was painting a piece of furniture in the barn, then walked inside the house, the smell of chocolate-chip cookies filling the air. Nice to live with a baker.
She’d take a little nap, then come down for lunch and Eva’s cookies. But when she sat down on her bed, she popped right back up. Which wasn’t easy when you were eight months pregnant.
What the heckeroo?
This wasn’t her bed. Her bed was perfectly serviceable, comfortable, but nothing like what her butt had just sunk into.
She stared at the very plush-looking queen-size bed where her old full-size had been. This one had to be adjustable, because the head was raised. And there was a remote control on her bedside table.
Massage. Vibrate. Bluetooth. There were controls for just about anything you’d want to do in bed.
And at the foot of the bed was a package containing thousand-thread-count blue gingham sheets and a gorgeous blue-and-white quilt with matching shams, plus four down pillows and one long body pillow.
This had Jensen Jones written all over it.
She lay down on the bed. Oh. My. God. This was beyond heavenly. She played with the remote control, testing all the features, the massager working her lower back while she raised her feet a bit.
She’d give herself five minutes to enjoy everything about this bed, and then she was calling Jensen to let him know they had to end things between them and that he had to take the bed back.
Even if she loved this darn bed. Even if she loved the man.
She forced herself out of the amazing bed and picked up her phone and called him. He answered on the first ring. She had to admit, the guy never played games.
“Mikayla, I’m so glad you finally called. I’ve missed you like crazy. And you’re clearly avoiding me, so let’s talk this out. I can pick you up and we’ll go to the park or take a long drive—”
“Jensen, I’m sorry, but I can’t do this anymore. I should have talked to you about it yesterday or answered your calls or texts, but I was overwhelmed and just needed some time to think.”
“And what you think is that we should stop spending time together? Mikayla, we only have another week together. We want to be together. So let’s be together.”
How could she tell him what was bothering her? She wasn’t about to tell him she loved him and that it was starting to hurt too much that he didn’t love her back and would be walking out of her life.
“It’s over, Jensen. Please just accept it.”
“I can’t. Unless you can tell me why. Maybe then I’ll be able to understand why you’re pushing me away.”
Because I’m in love with you, you idiot! she wanted to scream. Because it’s too painful. Because you’re leaving me.
She couldn’t say that, and her head and heart were too muddled for her to come up with something else, so she said nothing.
“I’m coming over. See you in a few.” Click.
Great. The sight of him always tended to weaken her resolve. Now what?
She paced her room, ignoring her fabulous new bed. Boy, she could use a massage right now.
She heard the approach of a car and looked out the window. There was the big, shiny black pickup he’d rented. She watched him get out of the truck. Of course, he wore a navy blue T-shirt and faded jeans and his cowboy boots, looking more like a regular guy and less like the high-rolling millionaire he was. Well, except for the diamond-encrusted J of his belt buckle glinting in the sun.
She headed downstairs to let him in. Maybe she should lead him to the family room and they could talk there. Anywhere but her bedroom.
He knocked and she opened the door, and as always, the very Jensenness of him did her in. She lost her breath. Her speech. Her focus. All she could see and think about was him.
“Please don’t push me away, Mik.”
Straight to the point, no muss, no fuss, no song and dance.
She stepped back for him to enter and forced herself to walk to the family room. He trailed her. She poked her head in to make sure the room was empty, but it turned out Luke and some men were having a meeting in there. Dang. They could go for a walk, but it was crazy hot today and she didn’t think she could get very far.
Her bedroom, it was.
She led the way upstairs. Once inside, she closed the door behind him. Part of her wanted to push him against the door and kiss him senseless. The other part knew she had to say her piece and move on with her life, which wouldn’t include him.
“Jensen, I’m going to be very honest with you. I’ve foolishly gone and developed feelings for you, but it’s clear that we’re not on the same page there, so I need to say goodbye.”
“
Of course I have feelings for you, Mikayla. You know I do.”
“I don’t mean that I like you and enjoy sex with you, Jensen. I’m talking way beyond that.”
“Ah.” He bit his lip slightly and turned, the truth dawning in his blue eyes. “You’re talking about Vegas. How I reacted about those crazies thinking I was your baby’s father. Or your husband.” He looked so miserable that she almost felt bad for him. Almost.
“Well, your reaction certainly hit me over the head with the truth I’ve been ignoring. You told me all that, Jensen. From the beginning, you were honest. But still, yes, your reaction made me realize I’ve been clinging to the hope that you’d change your mind.”
“Mikayla, I can’t—”
“I know you can’t.” Or won’t. “It’s ironic, really, that I want the one thing you can’t give me.”
He let out a hard sigh and sat in the rocking chair, running a hand through his movie-star blond hair. But he didn’t say anything. He didn’t correct her or give her the one thing she wanted.
Him. His heart. His future.
“Jensen, I could keep dating you until it’s time for you to fly away, but I’m only going to get hurt worse that way.”
He glanced at her, and she could practically see his mind working, looking for his in, how to make this work for her and him.
“I love the bed,” she said, pointing at it. “I gave it a try for five minutes. But I can’t keep it.”
“It’s a gift. I want you to have it.”
“I can’t be bought, Jensen,” she said, anger tingeing her voice. “Maybe other women you’ve been with were happy to have you shower them with gifts, but I’m not. That’s not what I want from you.”
“What do you want?” he asked. “Specifically.”
You. All of you. But maybe she’d start slow—take baby steps so as not to scare him. “The only thing I know for sure is that you’re not looking for a commitment. I am.”
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