“Of course I have. But it’s the middle of the afternoon.”
“‘Morning’ sickness isn’t literal,” she muttered. “It can be anytime. I got sick and now I’m better. So you can go.”
When he didn’t get out of the car, she swiveled to face him. “You think I can’t push you out the car door? Try me.”
“I’m worried, Sierra. Smart women don’t sleep along the side of a country road with the door open unless something is wrong.”
The baby chose that moment to move, and she put her palm over her abdomen. She’d been able to feel it moving for the past week, and it still seemed like a miracle.
He stared at her hand. “What? What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick again?”
She let her arm drop away. “What are you talking about?”
“You were holding your stomach.”
She skimmed her hand over the slight bulge again and despite her anger with Nick, her mouth softened into a tiny smile. “My baby was moving. I never get tired of feeling it.”
He frowned as he studied the lump beneath the light blue shirt. “What does it feel like?”
That was the first question he’d asked about her pregnancy. About the baby. Sierra wanted to ignore him, but it was his baby, too. “It’s just a little flutter at this point. Why do you want to know?”
“Just curious.” He peered at her abdomen, as if waiting to see her skin ripple. “Something moving inside you makes me think of that thing from the Alien movies.”
“Alien? That’s charming.” So much for getting warm and fuzzy with Nick about the baby.
“That’s the view from the other chromosome. I’ve never been around a pregnant woman. I don’t know anything about being pregnant.”
“And you don’t want to know.”
“I never did before.” His mouth flattened. “I do now. This wasn’t my choice, but I want to do the right thing, Sierra.”
“And how do you define that?”
“I have no idea. Whatever you want me to do.”
“The right thing is to leave me alone and forget about us.” She and the baby were already an us. A unit.
“I won’t do that. I have an obligation to you.” He gestured toward the bump. “You didn’t make that by yourself.”
“But I’m going to deal with my baby by myself. You’ve already made it clear how you feel about the situation, and that suits me perfectly. We don’t need you.”
“That’s not your choice. I don’t want attachments, and I’ve never made a secret of that. I still don’t, but it’s too late now. There’s going to be a baby, and I’m responsible.” He shifted in his seat so he faced her. “I won’t back down on that.”
It felt as if he were digging a knife into her heart. “I know you’re very conscientious about your duties. About fulfilling your responsibilities. It was one of the things I admired about you. Now it’s just annoying. I don’t want you hanging around, pissed off because I chose to have the baby, trying to figure out how to do the ‘right thing’.” She mimed quotation marks in the air. “Your sense of duty is a problem for both of us.”
“Is that why you’re so angry? Because you think I wanted you to have an abortion?”
“I saw your face this morning when you thought I had. You were relieved. Happy.” She gripped the steering wheel and watched a cardinal land on a branch and flick its tail.
“It would have been easier.”
She had to give him credit for being honest. “For both of us. But that’s not a choice I’m going to make.”
“Then we deal with reality. The baby is half mine. You chose to have it, and I’m going to take responsibility for my part. You can’t make that decision for me.”
He’d get tired of seeing to his responsibilities. “I don’t know what you think you can do from Chicago.”
“I can send money from Chicago. Or you could move back.”
“Adjust my life for you? Why would I do that? I have a job here. I’ve made promises.”
“Then we’ll have to figure out a way for this to work, won’t we?”
Time to change the subject, because arguing with him was like beating her head against a rock. “What are you doing out here, anyway?”
“I was on my way to your job site. After I left his house, I called Barnes, and he told me about your problem. I thought, since I was here anyway, there might be something I could do to help.”
Territoriality stirred, but she tried to ignore it. “Thank you,” she said, resting against the door as she faced him. “That’s not necessary, but it’s very generous of you.” Regardless of what was between them personally, Nick was a good architect. “But unless you can read minds and go back into the past, there’s nothing you can do. Someone made a mistake, and we have to figure out how it happened.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t deliberate?” He leaned against the other door.
God, she hoped not. It meant someone she was working with was trying to cheat her. “Mark swears that the foreman of the lumberyard is honest. He’s worked with him many times before this.”
Nick’s forehead wrinkled in a frown. “Mark is…?”
“The general contractor. Walker did the research and chose him. He came highly recommended.”
“Check everything yourself from now on,” Nick said, straightening. “Don’t trust anyone else to do it.”
“Believe me, I won’t.” She pushed away from the door and sat up. “I know how to handle this. It’s not the first project I’ve worked on.”
“It’s the first time you’ve been on your own.”
“Are you implying I don’t know what I’m doing? That this mistake was somehow my fault?” Her hands closed into fists. “Why did you call Walker, anyway? Were you trying to get him to give the project back to you?”
“Of course not.” Nick shifted in the seat and glanced out the window. Following his gaze, she saw that another bird had joined the cardinal on the fence. It looked similar, but it was brown instead of red.
“Why, then?”
“I wanted to know where the site was,” he finally said. “So I knew where to find you.”
“You would have come to my workplace?” she asked carefully.
“If necessary.” He held her gaze. “I’m serious about this baby thing. Money may be all I can give you, but I will give you that.” He leaned a little closer. “You can be as self-righteous as you want, but why would you refuse money for your kid?”
Her kid. Not theirs. But he had a point. She didn’t have the right to refuse a gift to her child. “Fine, Nick. I’ll think about what you said. About what I want to do about it. That’s all I can promise.”
“That’s enough for now.” He opened the door and stepped out of her car, then hesitated. “You’re not going to the job site now, after being sick, are you? Do you want me to follow you home?”
“I’m fine, and I have work to do. Goodbye, Nick.”
“I’ll see you again before I leave town,” he said, closing the door.
“You’re staying here?”
“Yeah, at the Bide-a-Wee Motel on the other side of town.”
The same place she’d stayed. It was in the middle of nowhere, with just-plowed fields on one side and black-and-white cows grazing on the other.
“Not for long, I’m guessing. I figure you’ll be bored out of your mind by ten o’clock tomorrow morning.” She gripped the steering wheel more tightly. “Maybe sooner. I won’t be offended if you decide to leave town.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” He closed her door carefully and walked to a sleek black sports car parked a little behind her SUV on the other side of the road.
She’d seen Nick’s ferocious concentration on every job he’d done. Damn it. He wasn’t going to give up.
THE HARP AND HALO LOOKED like a different place when Nick walked in that evening. Instead of dim and quiet, it was packed with people. The clinking of glasses, the ripple of voices, occasional laughter filled the room. Energy crackled in the
air, making the place feel alive. And it wasn’t even seven o’clock yet. He wondered if all these people were here for the band, or if this was a typical Friday night.
He went to his share of exclusive clubs in Chicago—the women he dated expected to be taken to them. Those places were all about seeing and being seen, about wearing the right clothes and buying the right drinks.
Beer seemed to be the preferred beverage here, but there were a few glasses of wine and the occasional whiskey on the rocks. That was it.
Not a cosmopolitan or appletini in sight. That was refreshing, too.
The booths along the opposite wall and the tables down the middle of the room were all full. Three men and a slender blonde woman were setting up musical instruments at the front, but there was no music playing at the moment. Unlike the big city clubs, you could actually have a conversation in here.
Nick edged his way to the bar, and nodded at the bartender when he caught his eye.
“You came back,” Murphy said with a smile. “Welcome. What can I get you?”
“What single malt scotches do you have?”
He pulled a piece of paper from beneath the bar. “Here you go.”
There were several single malts listed, as well as a few varieties of Irish whiskey. “Impressive list,” Nick said.
The bartender looked up from the beer he was pulling. “For a Podunk town?” he said, his eyes twinkling. “I like to surprise people.”
“Surprised the hell out of me. Someone knows their whiskey.”
“That would be me,” Murphy said. “I used to have a deep and intimate acquaintance with it.”
That was frank. “How about an eighteen-year Macallan?” Nick said, looking more carefully at the guy. “Straight up.”
Murphy reached to a cabinet above the top shelf of bottles. “Good choice.” He poured the amber liquid and set it carefully on a coaster, as if it were liquid gold. “Nineteen bucks.”
Nick pushed some bills across the green marble surface and glanced at the unfamiliar names on the beer taps. “Next time I’m here, I’ll try one of your beers.”
“We have some good local craft choices. Come in when we’re less busy and we can talk about them.”
“Thanks. I will.”
Murphy began to draw another beer, and as Nick edged through the crowd, he heard snippets of conversations all around him. One man was talking about his shift at the canning factory. A woman was leaning against another man, talking about what the kids had done that day. Another woman grumbled about her commute to Green Bay.
People greeted one another by name and drifted from one group to another. They were all connected, all familiar, all friends.
He passed through the crowd as if he were invisible, moving from one circle to the next. A stranger. When he caught someone’s eye, the person would smile politely and return to his or her conversation. Nick was in a bubble of anonymity, and it was unsettling.
He’d never been part of a group of friends who met at a pub on a Friday night to have a beer and catch up. Never wanted to be. But this pub was welcoming. If he were into that new age stuff, he’d say it had a good vibe.
Nick wished he was part of it.
Which was stupid. He had nothing in common with these people. They wouldn’t care about his life. But for a moment, he wanted to belong.
He sipped his scotch and eased between two tables. He was unsettled because of the situation with Sierra. That’s all it was. He wasn’t used to a woman telling him to take a hike. Especially one with whom he had such a close connection.
He’d had a close connection with the last woman who’d dumped him, too.
His mother.
Since then, he hadn’t given any of them a chance. He was the one who said goodbye.
That wasn’t an option with Sierra. He took another sip of scotch to burn away the expected rush of panic, but it never appeared.
She’d fascinated him from the beginning, although he’d been careful to keep his distance. Other than that night. And now she wanted nothing to do with him. Or his money.
As if he conjured her with his thoughts, he saw her dark red head at the table in the corner. She was sitting with Walker and Jen Barnes. A good-looking man was settled in close to Sierra. Nick tightened his grip on the scotch as he made his way toward their table.
“Sierra. Walker. Jen. How are you?”
The Barneses murmured hello. “Why don’t you join us?” Jen asked.
Nick glanced at Sierra, who appeared frozen. He saw the struggle in her expression—if she said no, she’d have to explain why. Finally, she nodded once. “Yes, Nick. Pull up a chair.” She turned to the man on her left. “This is Mark Cameron. He’s the contractor for Jen and Walker’s house.”
He wasn’t a date. Nick smiled as he reached across the table. “Good to meet you.” He grabbed an empty chair at an adjoining table and wedged it between Sierra and Cameron.
“So,” Nick said, taking another drink of scotch. “What have you found out about the plywood?”
CHAPTER NINE
THE CONVERSATIONS AROUND them, the clink of glasses, the rattle of silverware faded away as Nick sat down beside Sierra. He was too close—he’d squeezed in between her and Mark—and it was impossible to ignore him. She smelled the rich peat smoke of the whiskey he was drinking, the aftershave he always wore, the soap he’d used. His thigh was inches from hers, and heat crawled over her.
She wanted to edge away, but knew she couldn’t. She’d seen the speculative expression on Jen’s face when Nick strolled up. Sierra needed to avoid questions about her former boss.
So she plastered a smile on her face. When he asked what they’d found out about the plywood, she and Mark rehashed everything they’d just told Jen and Walker—they’d made no progress in figuring it out, but more had arrived, a rush delivery, and they’d checked every piece. The conversation drifted to other topics—normal business talk, the kind she’d had with Nick innumerable times.
There was nothing normal about this situation.
“You’re moving along, then. Great.” Nick turned to Jen and Walker as he patted her hand. She eased away casually, as if his touch meant nothing. “You’ll enjoy working with Sierra,” he said. “She’s the best associate I have.” He smiled. “Had, I guess.”
Walker stretched his legs out. “You’re recommending Sierra for this job? You were singing a different tune this morning.”
“Of course I was,” Nick said easily. “This morning I was pissed off that I’d lost the project. I’m still not happy about it—I’d like to have your house in my portfolio. But if I can’t do it, I’m glad Sierra is going to.”
“That’s generous of you,” Jen said. Her eyes narrowed just a little as she studied Nick. Sierra guessed that not too many people conned Jen.
Nick shrugged. “Sierra is a good architect. I’m hoping if I play nice, she’ll come back to Boone and Associates when she finishes this job.”
He laid his arm along the back of her chair. The gesture meant nothing—he’d done it before in meetings, no matter who was sitting next to him. She’d never paid any attention.
Tonight, her skin burned with awareness. It felt as if he was spinning a web around her, drawing her closer and closer. She pushed her chair back abruptly and his arm fell away. “Excuse me for a moment,” she said, snatching up her purse.
As the restroom door whooshed closed behind her, Sierra stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were too bright and her skin was flushed.
She couldn’t let Nick see he affected her.
She straightened her shirt and swiped her damp palms down her thighs. He’d use any opening she gave him, and she wasn’t going to give him that opportunity.
Sierra splashed cold water on her face, smoothed down her hair, reapplied her lip gloss. When her pulse had steadied and she felt calm again, she returned to the table. As she sat down, she managed to slide her chair away from Nick’s. If he noticed, he didn’t react.
He was
busy discussing the project with Walker and Mark. Her project. All three of them were leaning forward, elbows on the table, talking about drainage fields and solar shingles and insulation.
“Have you solved all my problems?” she said sarcastically as she scooted her chair closer. She glanced at Nick. “I hope so. It’s always nice to get free advice.”
Jen hid a tiny smile behind her soda glass.
“Working on it,” Nick answered. “Give us another hour or two, and we’ll have that house built and landscaped.”
“You’re welcome to the landscaping,” she said to him. “That’s not my area of expertise.” She drained her ginger ale and beat back a wave of weariness. Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to fall into bed and sleep for the rest of the night.
But leaving now wasn’t an option. It would be a sign of weakness, and this was business. She’d learned early in architecture school that women in the men’s world of construction and building couldn’t be polite and courteous. They had to speak up, interrupt the same way the men did, push their agenda forcefully.
So she waded into the discussion, trading ideas with Mark and Nick, listening to Jen’s and Walker’s thoughts. When the band struck their first notes, everyone stopped talking and she settled against the back of her chair. Thank goodness. She could listen to a few songs, then say good-night.
“One last thing,” Nick said, raising his voice to be heard over the music. “If you need a second opinion on anything, any help, let me know.” He turned to her and nudged her shoulder. “Sierra and I have always worked well together.”
She kicked him in the ankle and he moved his shoulder. “This is a little far to go for a casual consultation, isn’t it?” she asked.
He held her gaze for a moment, then smiled easily at Jen and Walker. “I’ll be back. I like this town. There’s a lot going on up here.”
“Really?” Sierra raised her eyebrows. “I didn’t realize you were such a fan of cows.”
“Big one,” he assured her. “I found some excellent cheese in a little store along County S. I’ve developed a whole new appreciation for them.”
“You’re going to become a cheesehead? You’d look good in one of those cheddar wedge hats.”
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