“She’s been on that kick for a while now.”
“And…? It’s not like you’re getting any younger, brother dear.”
“No,” a woman’s laughing voice said from behind her, “but he just keeps getting better.”
Startled, Courtney turned to see her sister-in-law ready to cut in and could have wept with relief. “How’d the delivery go?”
“False alarm.” Mallory smiled. She was still dressed in pale blue scrubs. “Just some strong Braxton Hicks contractions, as Mom kept trying to convince Dad, but he was convinced that she was in true labor. Poor guy is out of his mind worrying about his wife.” She raised her eyebrows. “Mind if I cut in?”
“Please,” Courtney offered, as she stepped away from her brother. “He keeps stepping on my clown toes.”
“Hard not to when they’re about six inches too long,” he defended himself as he swept his wife into a close hold.
Courtney moved away, with the sound of Mallory’s soft laughter in her ears.
Mason had bought condoms?
She was afraid to assume that he meant to use them with her.
Everywhere she looked, she saw couples. Families.
Thoroughly agitated, she collected her purse from their unoccupied table and headed toward Mason again. Dinner was long over, and the only things left for the night were more carnival games for the children she didn’t have and dancing with the partner she didn’t have.
The non-partner who’d bought condoms.
She stopped next to him. “Do you want to stay longer, or are you ready to go?”
He immediately set his beer on the table behind him. He gave her a close look. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. Do you want to stay or go?”
“Go.”
She nodded. “Fine. I’ll just say good-night to my folks and meet you by the door.” She didn’t wait to watch him crutch his way there but looked around to find her parents. They, too, were on the dance floor. She worked her way close enough to wave goodbye, then headed to the main gymnasium doors, where Mason was waiting.
She pushed them open and waited for him to pass through. “I’ll bring up the car.”
“I can make it to the car.”
“Your choice.” She headed across the sidewalk toward the crowded parking lot, digging in her purse for her keys as she went. She could hear the thump-slide-thump of Mason behind her and had to fight off the urge to slow her pace and hover closer to him, lest his crutches catch on an uneven bit of pavement. She reached the car ahead of him and had the back door open and waiting by the time he got there.
Handing her the crutches, he used both—hallelujah—of his arms to lower himself onto the seat and slide across it until his cast was inside the car. Without a word, she handed him the crutches to lay on the floor behind the seats and closed the door, then went around to the driver’s side.
In minutes, she was driving out of the parking lot.
“What’s bugging you?”
She glanced in the rearview mirror, but the only thing she could make out were the headlights of the car behind her. “Nothing.”
“Yeah, right.”
She cleared her throat with a soft cough. “Just some gossip I heard.”
“About?”
She pulled the car off to the side of the street, shoved it into Park and looked over the seat at him. “About you. Buying condoms!”
“And that has you pissed off?”
Her hands tightened around the steering wheel. “Why do you need to be out buying condoms?”
“Because I couldn’t find any in your house.”
She gaped. “You’ve been looking?”
“Yes.”
His answer was so calm and immediate that she blinked. “What do you plan on doing with them?”
Even in the dim light, she could see his eyebrow lift. “If I plan on doing something, it won’t be making X-rated balloons out of them.” His voice was mild.
She pressed her fingertips hard against her temples. “Who are you planning to use them with?” She dropped her hands. “Maybe you need me to take you to Colbys, so you can pick up some women, too?”
“Don’t be stupid.”
She stared at him. “Well, what am I supposed to think, Mason? You’re practically hands-off for weeks, and you wouldn’t even try to dance with me. I get it that you didn’t want to dance. Pretty hard to do, with the cast and all, but—”
He leaned forward until his hand could catch behind her neck. “I bought them because of you,” he said evenly. “Because I’m not sure how much more my self-control can take.” Then, before she could wrap her mind around that, he let go of her and was sitting back again. “How did you even find out, anyway? Axel just dropped me off in front of the store. He doesn’t know what the hell I bought.”
“This is Weaver,” she said faintly. “You can’t do anything in this town without somebody taking notice and spreading the word along.”
He grimaced. “Nice.”
“You said it was a bad idea for us to go down that path.”
“And people go down paths they shouldn’t all the time. If I’m no better, then I at least want to be prepared. Oh, hell. This is great,” he muttered. He’d turned to look out the back window.
Her mouth was dry. A million thoughts were racing through her head, but nothing was coming out of her lips. He was still looking out the back, and her gaze followed his to the flashing red-and-blue lights, but for a moment, even they didn’t make sense to her.
And then, when a police officer knocked on the window beside her head, they did.
She groaned and rolled down the window. “Hey there, Dave.”
The deputy sheriff cocked his head, eyeing her. “Everything okay, Courtney? You’re in a no-parking zone.”
“Sorry. I’ll move on.”
The man nodded, though he gave Mason a long look. “Drive safe,” he said and thumped his hand on the top of the car before walking back to his patrol vehicle.
Courtney rolled up her window and put the car in Drive. “I can’t believe you bought condoms.” She shakily pulled back onto the street.
“Better to be prepared,” he said dismissively.
Except she didn’t want the subject dismissed. “Because I want a baby, and you want to make sure it’s not yours?”
“That’s not what I said.”
Her hands twisted on the steering wheel. “But it’s true, isn’t it?”
She heard him sigh. “I can’t believe everyone in this freaking town knows everyone else’s business,” he muttered.
It wasn’t a direct response, but it didn’t have to be.
She knew the answer.
“Maybe I’ve changed my mind, too. Maybe I don’t want to sleep with you again.”
“Then you won’t.”
How easily he said it. As if it hardly mattered to him one way or the other. Maybe that particular intersection was more in her mind than in reality, after all.
A lump lodged in her throat, and she continued the drive home in silence. She let him out next to the house and drove back to park in the garage. He’d gone inside by the time she went in through the back door.
There was no sign of Plato. Her dog had fully defected to the enemy.
She toed off the silly clown shoes in the kitchen and padded in her stocking feet through the dining room, then down the hall.
Mason was waiting. There was no mistaking that particular fact. Not with him leaning against the wall, one crutch propped under his arm to help support him.
Plato sat next to him, leaning his big, fluffy body against Mason’s cast.
Her heart charged unevenly inside her chest. Because it felt safer, she looked down at her dog and held out her hand. “Have you forgotten who buys your dog food?”
Plato rolled to his feet and came forward, his tail wagging as he sloppily dragged his tongue over her hand. She crouched next to him and rubbed her hands over his coat. His tail flopped harder
, and his soft brown eyes looked hearteningly ecstatic. “Yes, you’re a handsome boy, even if you do prefer someone else over me.”
“He hasn’t lost his loyalty to you,” Mason assured her. “He just tolerates me ’cause I’ve tossed him the tennis ball a few times.”
“Hmm.” The dog sprawled on the floor and rolled over, waiting for his belly to be rubbed. She couldn’t help but smile a little at the blatant invitation and complied. “I don’t think tolerate is quite the word.” She pushed to her feet. “He’s going to miss you when you leave.”
“That sounds more like a reminder to us both that I will be leaving.”
“I don’t need to remind myself,” she said. “I’m aware of it every…single…day. Just as I am aware that you purchasing a box of condoms doesn’t change that.” She lifted her chin. “Maybe I don’t want anything to change. Maybe I like the fact that you’ll be leaving. No strings and all that. It works both ways.”
The corner of his lip curled. “I’d bet my last dollar that it doesn’t work that way for you.”
It didn’t, but he didn’t have to know that he was right. She did have some pride. “I told you before that I wasn’t looking for a husband.” She spread her hands. “I’m not even looking for a baby-daddy. As you well know, I’ve got that angle covered with number 37892.”
His brows yanked together. “What?”
“Number 37892,” she repeated blithely. “That’s the donor I’ve chosen.”
“I can’t believe you’re still going through with this.”
“If you thought I wouldn’t, why’d you buy that keep-sake rattle?”
“Let me rephrase. I can’t believe you still want to have a baby via spermsicle.”
She propped her hands on her hips. “We’re back to that now? Why shouldn’t I?” She waved her hands. “I’m reasonably responsible. I can afford to raise a child if I’m careful, and I have a fabulous family around me for support! I’d rather do this on my own than depend on a man to be with me who doesn’t even want to be there in the first place!”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you speaking generally or specifically?”
She huffed. “Neither. For heaven’s sake, Mason. Stop worrying. I decided I wanted a baby long before you came back into the picture. Don’t want to bash your ego, but you really had nothing whatsoever to do with it. I just realized that for those things you really, really want in life, you shouldn’t wait. Because you never know what might happen.” She gestured at him. “You’re a perfect example,” she said. “You could have been killed by that SUV. Wasn’t there anything in your life that you would have regretted not doing, if you hadn’t been as lucky as you were?” She made a face. “Oh, that’s right. I’m sorry. You’re the emotional-island guy. You don’t let yourself care about anything else besides your job.”
“My job was—is—the only thing that I’m good at.” His voice was flat, the scar on his face standing out whitely. “I didn’t fail it. And it hasn’t failed me.”
“Who’d you fail, Mason? Your ex-wife? The one who didn’t like your scars? Who didn’t hang around to see you conquer your painkiller addiction?”
“Don’t waste time analyzing me.”
“And don’t you waste time thinking that I should wait around for some guy to sweep me off my feet and make my every dream come true,” she said swiftly. “I live in Weaver, Mason. I know nearly every guy in this town. If there was someone around who made my bells ring, then I’d be out there ringing ’em, but there’s not.”
“Weaver’s not the only place in the world.”
“You think I don’t know that? I lived in Cheyenne while I was studying nursing. I’ve traveled with my parents around the United States. I’ve traveled abroad with friends. I choose Weaver. It’s where I grew up, and it’s where I want my child to grow up. Everywhere I turn, I am surrounded by family and friends who’ve found their partners in life. Who’ve got their metaphorical white picket fence, with babies and all.” She lowered her hands finally. “Well, I’m not waiting for a white picket fence that may never come. Maybe you and I aren’t so different, after all. You know who and what you are. And I know who and what I am. They’re just on completely different planes.”
She took a step back, waiting for her pounding heart to climb down out of her throat. Waiting, too, for him to say something. Anything.
But all he did was stand there, his fist clenched around the handgrip of his crutch, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
Her heart did climb out of her throat then. It slowly sank, heading right for her toes.
“It’s late,” she finally said huskily. “I’m going to bed.” She knew better than to ask if he needed anything before she went.
Because even if he did, he wouldn’t ask.
Chapter Ten
She went out on a date.
With Dr. Flannery.
Despite all her claims that she wasn’t interested in finding a man, she’d gone out with one.
Mason still couldn’t believe it. Not even after he’d watched Courtney—wearing a dress that gave new meaning to little and black—climb into Flannery’s low-slung car, parked at the curb.
Mason was inside the house, watching from the window, and he’d seen the length of sleek, shapely leg that was exposed when she’d climbed into the sports car. He was pretty damn certain that Pierce Flannery—orthopedic guy that he was—had been studying that perfect limb, too.
And now, they’d been gone for over four hours.
It was nearly midnight, and Mason was about ready to climb out of his skin. What the hell were they doing that it took four hours?
He knew what he’d want to be doing. Same thing he’d been wanting to do from the day he’d seen Courtney again. Same thing that had driven him to buy condoms. Just in case.
The damnable thing was that he’d had opportunities. After that rattle business. He’d held her in his arms. She’d even kissed him before he’d pushed her away. And the day of the Halloween shindig. Before she’d found out about his not-so-anonymous purchase and his “just in case” theory had flown out the window.
He should have danced with her.
Even if he’d made an ass out of himself trying, he should have danced.
He shoved his fingers through his hair. It felt odd without the cast, which had been removed the week before, but he was mighty glad to have the thing off even if his arm—paler than the rest of him—looked like some sort of alien thing.
If she hadn’t found out about the condoms, would she have still decided to go out with the doctor from Braden?
He grimaced and looked over at Plato, who was taking up nearly as much of the couch cushions as Mason was. “Where the hell are they?”
Plato sighed noisily and flopped his tail twice. His eyebrows seemed to twitch as his gaze went from side to side.
“I know,” Mason muttered. “It’s none of my damn business. At least that’s what she would tell me.” Grabbing his crutches, he managed to pull himself off the couch. He headed toward the kitchen but stopped at the computer desk in the dining room.
He slid the mouse around, and the swirl of stars on the screen disappeared. Number 37892 stared back at him. Or at least the webpage describing 37892’s attributes stared back at him.
Six foot one. 190 pounds. Straight brown hair. Green eyes. A lawyer.
“Probably an ambulance chaser,” he muttered and kept moving into the kitchen.
Courtney had left him a plate of food that was ready to go. All he had to do was punch a few numbers on the microwave.
She took the whole room-and-board thing pretty seriously, even if she had come to the realization that he was an ass. And if—when—she got home from her date with Dr. Feelgood, she’d expect that plate to be empty or worry why.
So even though his appetite was just as nonexistent as it had been after she’d left, he heated the plate and ate the chicken and rice concoction while standing at the counter. It was easier than trying to carry the plate over to the table a
nd sit down.
When he was finished, he rinsed the plate in the sink, set it in the dishwasher and crutched his way back to the living room. He sat down next to Plato again, where he had a view out the front window through the wide-open plantation shutters.
“Guess we’re waiting, Plato.”
The dog circled a few times before settling with his head on Mason’s knee. The dog sighed hugely.
So did Mason.
“Are you sure I can’t talk you into a nightcap?”
Courtney smiled at Pierce and shook her head. She knew the guy was angling for an invitation inside, and she just couldn’t make herself pretend she was interested.
Not that the evening had been unpleasant.
Pierce Flannery was an attractive, intelligent and relatively engaging companion. They even had similar interests, not to mention their complementary professions. They’d driven to Gillette for dinner simply because Courtney had happened to mention that she enjoyed Thai food and that was the closest place for it.
By all rights, she should have thoroughly enjoyed herself and been more than happy to extend the evening a little longer.
But encouraging the man wasn’t fair.
For that matter, accepting his invitation to dinner hadn’t been exactly fair.
Not when she’d agreed only because she wanted to get Mason out from beneath her skin.
Or maybe get underneath Mason’s skin, a fact that didn’t make her feel any less guilty.
Mason was still burrowed right where he always had been—maybe even further—and if he was bothered in the least by her unexpected date with the eligible doctor, he’d certainly hidden it well.
And now she had managed to encourage a perfectly nice man in whom she had absolutely no interest.
All in all, she felt like the worst sort of slug.
“I’m sure,” she told Pierce. “I have an early morning.” They were parked at the curb in front of the house, and thanks to the lamp burning in her living room, she could easily see Mason through the front window, sitting on the couch. Despite the late hour, he was up.
Waiting?
Trying hard to ignore that fact, she leaned over the console and quickly kissed Pierce’s cheek. “Thank you for dinner. It was very nice.”
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