by Judy Duarte
So he’d suggested they spend some time getting to know each other to soften the blow, especially today, when she stood before him, alone and vulnerable, yet proud, wearing curve-hugging stretch pants and a blousy green top that suggested she planned to work out.
“We could start by going out to lunch,” he said. “What do you think?”
His suggestion must have taken her aback, because she didn’t say anything right away. When she finally spoke, she asked, “When do you want to do that?”
Not today, he supposed. It wasn’t even close to noon. “What about one day next week?”
“I start work on Monday, so we’d have to find a place for a quick meal in Brighton Valley.”
“Actually, that would work better for me anyway.” The moment the words rolled off his tongue, he regretted them. This wasn’t about him or his convenience.
Well, in a way, he supposed it was. If he didn’t look out for his best interests, who would?
Still, all of his self-talk failed to do the trick because, when push came to shove, he believed her claim. And that meant those babies would prove to be his.
So now what? She’d invited him inside, but she hadn’t asked him to have a seat. Should he sit down anyway?
He’d come to see her today, hoping to get on her good side, but so far his efforts didn’t seem to be working very well. He ought to be happy that she’d agreed to meet him for lunch in Brighton Valley next week. But she’d probably only have an hour, which wouldn’t give them much time to talk.
Instead of waiting for an invitation to make himself at home, he took a couple steps forward and scanned the cozy living room once more, thinking that the decor was scarce compared to his family home, a sprawling five-bedroom ranch house loaded down with colorful, handwoven rugs on the hardwood floors, southwestern artwork on the walls and tons of photographs throughout.
He spotted several cardboard boxes in a corner, next to a stack of framed pictures, and it struck him that she might be moving. Apparently she’d been serious about leasing out her house and finding a rental in Brighton Valley.
“What’s going on with that stuff over there?” he asked. “Are you moving in or out?”
“A little of both.” She chuckled softly, which was the first sign that they might be able to get through the initial awkwardness of his unannounced visit. “After my parents died, I packed up the house and put some of their personal things in storage. The plan was to either sell the house or rent it out furnished. And now that I’m home to stay, I’ve been bringing things back and putting them where they belong.”
“I’d be happy to help.”
“That’s not necessary.”
She’d told him she wasn’t going to ask anything of him, and apparently she meant it. That further convinced him that she was telling the truth, that he’d fathered those babies. She also seemed determined to handle things on her own. Didn’t that prove that she wasn’t like Tyrone’s ex-wife and that she wasn’t trying to put something over on him?
He slowly shook his head and stepped forward. Using his best commanding officer’s voice, he said, “You shouldn’t be lifting boxes. Or reaching up to hang pictures. I’ll do it for you. Just tell me where you want them.”
Rickie folded her arms, resting them on top of her baby bump. “I didn’t have any problem bringing them in from storage. And they can stay right where they are.”
“I’ve got a couple of hours,” he said. “You might as well put me to work.”
She sucked in a deep breath, then slowly blew it out. “I planned to go through those boxes and take out what I’d like to keep in the house. The rest of the stuff can go out in the garage.”
“Okay, so sorting stuff is something you’ll have to do yourself. But I’m here now. What else can I do?”
She studied him for a moment, as if questioning the wisdom of allowing him into her home and into her life. Then she uncrossed her arms. “I’m clearing out the office so I can convert it into a nursery. I realize I have time to get that done, but I’d feel better if I had things ready way before the babies get here. My doctor said that twins often come early.”
“Then you may as well give me a list of things to do. In a few weeks, I won’t be as available as I am now.”
She bit down on her bottom lip, as if pondering the wisdom of accepting his help. Finally, she said, “I do need to move the office furniture into the garage.”
“All right. And after that...?”
She scrunched her pretty face and placed her hands on her hips. “You’re serious about this.”
“You bet I am.” He just hoped he wouldn’t live to regret it.
“Do you know how to paint?” she asked.
“I’ve had plenty of experience painting the barn and the corrals on the ranch. Why?”
“The walls are white now and a little dingy, so I want to freshen things up and change to something more bright and cheerful.” Rickie pointed toward the hallway. “Come on. I’ll show it to you and tell you what I have in mind for the nursery.”
Clay followed her past an open bedroom door and to the office. The room was pretty empty, other than the furniture—a desk, a wheeled chair, a small bookshelf and a metal file cabinet.
“Once this room is cleared,” she said, “I’d like to paint the walls light green. And if I can remember how to use my mom’s sewing machine, I’ll try to make some curtains with a cute animal print. Or maybe I’ll just put a valance on top of some new white blinds.”
She was nesting and clearly more content with the life changes coming her way than Clay was. Not that he found anything wrong with that. Creating a home for the twins was a good thing. Kids needed a loving mother.
They needed a father, too, he supposed. Although he’d learned to live without one. Of course, Granddad had stepped into that position when Clay was a teenager, clamping down on him occasionally, but only when Clay got too rebellious. For the most part, Granddad had a boys-will-be-boys attitude, but he knew how to yell and cuss. And he knew how to set limits.
But even though Granddad might have set a good example of how to be a disciplinarian, babies needed a gentle hand. And Clay suspected he’d fall short when it came to being a nurturer.
“I’m going to put one crib against the east wall,” Rickie explained. “And the other one will go near the closet. I think I can get by with a single chest of drawers. At least, for the time being.”
He hadn’t thought about that. She was going to need a lot of baby stuff. And two of most things. That was going to be costly. He’d have to make a financial contribution toward her purchases.
After she took him to the garage and pointed out the spot where she wanted to store the office furniture, he returned to the house and began moving things. He thought about driving back to the ranch to get a dolly, but that was going to take a while. And he hated to have her think he was wimping out on her.
The file cabinet was empty, which made it easy for one guy to move alone. And the bookshelf was fairly light. The desk, on the other hand, was going to be more challenging. But he was strong and industrious. Besides, it wasn’t that big. When he’d been in high school, he’d had one about that same size in his bedroom.
“I can help you move that,” she said.
“The heck you will.” He shot her a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look and rolled his eyes. “I got it.”
Determined to prove himself and to show her that he wasn’t an invalid, he kicked aside a large throw rug that had been sitting in front of it. Then he pulled the desk away from the wall. He stepped back, thinking he might use that rug to his advantage. The plan was to set it under the two rear legs, then slide the desk across the floor.
As he spun to the right, he tripped over the damn thing, lost his balance and dropped to the hardwood floor.
It all happened so quickly, he couldn’t do a single thing to correct his fall. As he landed on his bad knee, a sharp pain sliced to the bone. “Dammit.”
“Oh, no.” R
ickie rushed to his side and dropped to the floor. “Are you all right?”
No. He hurt like hell. And so did his pride.
“I’m okay,” he said as he slowly rolled to the side, taking the weight off his knee, and sat on his butt. Then he stretched out his leg, which throbbed and ached like a son of a gun.
“I just need to take the weight off it for a while.” Actually, he was more concerned about the long-term effect of his fall. He’d hate to suffer a setback in his rehab. But he didn’t say a word about that. Otherwise, she’d probably run him off and try to do the heavy work on her own.
As Rickie knelt beside him, the alluring scent of her shampoo, something that smelled like tropical fruit, filled his head, offering him a temporary distraction. Then she gently probed his knee. “I was afraid something like this might happen. I’ll get you an ice pack.”
“That’s not necessary. It feels better already.” Hell, just her TLC was enough to take the edge off the pain.
Apparently she wasn’t convinced, because she continued to finger his knee.
He tried to make light of the situation and tossed her a crooked grin. “I guess you can take the medic out of the Army, but you can’t take the medic’s heart out of the girl.”
She blessed him with a pretty smile, and the soreness faded even more. Time stalled, then rolled back, taking him to a different place, one where the waves splashed on the shore, where the scent of sunblock filled the warm, tropical air.
The recollection was so real it spiked his hormones, and a blast of heat shot through his veins. Without a thought to the repercussions, he reached up and cupped her jaw.
Her lips parted at the unexpected touch, and as their eyes met, he brushed his thumb across her cheek, caressing her skin. Memories of that romantic Hawaiian night built into a tropical storm, stirring up the same sweet pheromones that first surfaced while they’d sat on the sand and watched the sun go down.
He had half a notion to...
No, that was crazy. He wasn’t about to follow up on a sexual compulsion like that. He already knew what making love with her was like. And there was more to life than great sex.
Instead of going to bed and allowing their physical needs to be met, they ought to spend time together, talking and getting to know each other.
He removed his hand and glanced away, breaking eye contact before he completely lost his head. “I think I’d better leave that desk where it is for now. I’ll come back with some tools and take it apart. That way it’ll be easier to move.”
“I’m sure you have other things to do,” she said. “And it’s a long drive back to the ranch.”
“I saw a hardware store not far from here. I’ll just go pick up a screwdriver and a wrench. It’ll just take a few minutes.”
“I appreciate this, but you really don’t have to help me.”
He knew that. Only trouble was, he actually wanted to.
Chapter Seven
“You had a funny look on your face when I asked if I could go with you,” Rickie told Clay as they made their way to the curb in front of her house, where he’d parked his truck. “Are you sure you don’t mind if I tag along?”
“No, not at all. I was just a little surprised that you want to go to a hardware store.”
“I want to pick up some paint samples to take with me when I go shopping for the baby bedding and the material for curtains.”
“Wow. You’re really getting into the whole decorating thing.”
Apparently, she’d surprised him yet again. But when she glanced his way to read his expression, he tossed her a grin. Then they both got into the truck, and he started the engine.
Ten minutes later, they arrived at Hadley’s Building Supplies on the outskirts of Jeffersville. As they walked toward the entrance, Rickie took a moment to watch Clay’s gait, noting that his limp was more pronounced than when he’d first arrived at her house.
“You probably should have kept that ice pack on your leg longer,” she said.
He shook his head. “Nah. I’m doing okay.”
She wasn’t sure if he was being truthful or macho. With some men, it was hard to say. But she decided to take him at his word.
When they’d gotten about six feet from the door, a little red-haired boy breezed by Rickie, practically cutting her off and causing her to trip and stumble.
Clay reached out to steady her, his grip on her arm firm.
“Mikey!” a woman cried out. “I did not give you permission to run ahead. Apologize to that lady, then come back here.”
The boy, who was about four or five, was a cute kid, even with hair that stood up on one side, freckles sprinkled across his face and a smudge of dirt marring his chin. He bit down on his bottom lip, then looked at Rickie and frowned. “Sorry, lady.”
“Apology accepted.” Rickie offered him a smile, then glanced at the woman who’d called him back, assuming she was his mother. She was in her midthirties with shoulder-length dark hair and a baby bump that suggested she was due to deliver anytime. She also looked a bit worn and frazzled, no doubt from chasing after the energetic little boy all morning long.
If Rickie had been alone, she would have spoken to her and asked when her baby was due. She’d also ask the woman if she was having a boy or a girl, but Rickie wasn’t about to let her maternal hormones run away with her while she was with Clay.
When he opened the door for her, she stepped inside, followed by Mikey and his mom.
“If you’re good,” the mother told her son, “I’ll buy you candy to eat on the way home.”
A sugar rush was the last thing that kid needed, but Rickie kept that thought to herself.
Clay pointed to the right. “There’s the tool section.”
Rickie followed him down the aisle.
“That poor lady has her hands full,” Clay said. “And it looks like she’s going to have another one to chase after before she knows it.”
Rickie agreed, but she didn’t comment. She was going to have her hands full soon, too. How did Clay feel about that? Would he offer to help out? Or would he steer clear of her?
She tried to read between the lines, to gauge the subtext behind his words. But she decided to take one day at a time. He was here with her now. And he’d offered to paint the nursery.
Clay stopped in front of a display of packaged household sets that included several pastel-colored tools, including a couple of screwdrivers, a small hammer and a pair of pliers. They were kind of cute and probably functional. But they looked a little too girly to her.
“My dad’s tools are in storage, so it seems like a waste of money to buy new ones.” Rickie would have suggested they go look for them, but she hadn’t labeled the boxes, so it would take a long time to find them.
“I could drive back to the Bar M and pick up my screwdrivers, too. But I don’t feel like making that trek, especially if it sets me back a few hours. So this will get the job done.” He bypassed the pink set and chose one that was Tiffany blue in color. “Consider it a housewarming gift. You can keep them in the kitchen for little jobs that might come up. Besides, you’re having two babies. There’s no telling how often they’ll break something and you’ll have to fix it.”
“Are you suggesting the twins will be as active and impulsive as Mikey?”
“Yep. If they grow up to be anything like the kid I used to be, you will.” He winked, then tucked the tool set under his arm.
She thanked him, even though she didn’t see the need to have girly tools. But a wrench by any color was still a wrench, right? And if she faced a bigger repair job, she’d call a handyman.
“Now let’s go find those color samples,” he said.
They continued to the paint section and stopped in front of a rack that displayed a variety of options. She immediately looked for a pale green, which would match the comforter set she’d seen while shopping yesterday. She’d liked the jungle animal print, especially the cute monkeys in the trees. She’d also spotted one with a Western theme
that boasted little red barns, brown ponies and cowgirls and cowboys spinning lariats. If she ended up buying that one, she’d probably want beige walls.
She glanced at Clay, who stood patiently beside her, looking all tall and lean and cowboy. He barely resembled the handsome, bare-chested guy who’d charmed her on the beach or the skilled lover who’d made her feel like the only woman in the world. But Bullet by any other name was still Bullet. Right?
The chemistry they’d shared in bed was certainly still there. Just minutes ago, while seated on the floor of the office—or rather, the nursery—he’d nearly kissed her.
She’d seen the heat in his eyes, just as she’d spotted it when they’d slow danced on the sand and again in that rented bungalow. She’d sympathized with him when he’d tripped and landed on his knee, but while she’d examined him, something sparked between them, and she’d been sorely tempted to instigate that kiss herself, which would have been stupid.
Like he’d said, they didn’t know each other very well. And it wasn’t a good idea to let lust run away with them.
She removed a sample that had several shades of light green, as well as one with several beige hues, and showed them to Clay. “What do you think?”
“Does it matter?”
For some crazy reason, it did. “I’m still trying to decide on the decor for the nursery. I’m torn between animals and cowboys.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “I’m sure you’ll make the right decision.”
Yes, eventually she would, but it would be nice if he took more of an interest in her decorating choices.
“You mentioned green when we were in the office,” he said. “So it sounds like you’ve already decided.”
“Good point.” She replaced the brown sample, then held up the other to the artificial light, as if it might help her check the color variances. But more than that, she also wanted to know which shade matched his green eyes.
That way, if he didn’t come around very often, she had something in the nursery that would remind her of him. Of course, she’d also have the babies in their beds.
