Matched Online: Anthology Bks 1-4 (Contemporary Romance)

by Lacy Williams, Julie Jarnagin, Robin Patchen

  "How long has it been?"

  "Year and a half."

  "And today was what?"

  "Routine tests. I won't know 'til next week."

  "That must be awful."

  "Comes with the territory. You learn to live with it."

  "I'm so sorry." He thought of all the things he'd said to her the previous day, challenging her on her career choice, pushing her to travel. "I understand why you stay close to home. I'm sorry I was a jerk."

  "You weren't a jerk. You didn't know. My mother and her friends have spread the news to every living soul in town. I think you might be the only person in Ross who hadn't heard. It was just a matter of time, assuming we keep..."

  He heard what she didn't say. "I hope we do."

  "Whatever. It doesn't matter."

  "You really know how to make a guy feel wanted."

  She laughed, then shivered.

  "I'm sorry. You're probably freezing. We should get you out of this cold."

  "If you start treating me like a sick person, you'll never see me again. I get enough of that from my mother."

  "Oh. Sorry."

  "I think that's your fourth I'm sorry in about three minutes."

  "I'm..." He laughed. "Wow, you're right. I'm feeling very apologetic all of a sudden."

  "It happens. Just float the word cancer, you'll see what I mean."

  They reached the end of the tiny downtown area. He wanted to keep this conversation going, but Jo had her mother to meet, and he to get back to Sara. He stopped, squeezed her hand, looked into her eyes. "I'm not sorry you told me, Josephine. I'm not sorry I waited around to see you tonight."

  "You waited for me?"

  "Only for an hour."

  Her eyes widened, and he chuckled. "It was actually only a few minutes, but I would have waited an hour. The way your mother talked about you—I'm assuming it was your mother."

  "I guarantee it was my mother."

  He nodded. "I didn't want to think about anything bad happening to you. I couldn't imagine worrying all weekend, not talking to you."

  "You feel better now that you have?"

  He considered her question. She'd had cancer. An awful, terrifying thing to endure, but she currently had no evidence of it. Did it really matter? If he cared about somebody, he wouldn't run away from a scary diagnosis. And he did care. More than he'd thought possible. "I feel better because we talked. I feel better because I know you're a survivor."

  Her radiant smile warmed him to his toes. She blinked, turned, and started the walk back. When she saw his truck, she stopped. "I'm going to say goodbye here, lest my mother see you and grill me about you all night."

  "Okay, then. Lunch Monday?"

  Her smile dimmed, but she nodded. "Okay."

  "I'll pick you up at two."

  He watched until she paused at the door of the coffee shop. She turned, smiled, and waved before she stepped inside to meet her mother.

  The mystery was nearly solved. Cancer had kept Jo close to home when she'd wanted to travel. So now he had to figure out how she'd captured his heart so quickly and what he was going to do to salvage this relationship when he told her about his daughter.

  10

  Jo called on local businesses again Monday morning. Visiting Carter's workshop on Thursday had given her an idea. There were a lot of those kinds of buildings on the back streets of Ross—warehouses with non-descriptive names that, whatever they did, must have shipping needs. Didn't most businesses? It was one of the reasons she'd decided on a UPS franchise. Just about every business and most regular folks needed to ship stuff. She hadn't wanted to buy a franchise that required a lot of employees, nor had she had the cash to open a Sonic or McDonald's. Not only that, but the UPS Store was open business hours—not that she loved working six days a week, but what else did she have to do? She was responsible for only one employee right now. If she kept working on it, the business would come.

  So she knocked on doors, met a lot of men in work clothes who greeted her with greasy and calloused handshakes. Mostly kind folks who listened politely to her spiel and sometimes even promised to stop in the store. She found one business that seemed very interested, a business that did a lot of shipping, so her morning hadn't been wasted. She was back in the store by eleven to help Andrew with the lunch rush. More visitors today, folks mailing packages for Christmas, brown boxes filled with everything from iPads to stuffed animals to Christmas fudge. Funny how the packaging said so little about its contents.

  She imagined Carter for the millionth time that day, considered his beautiful packaging. Based on their conversation Friday night, his insides were just as nice.

  The weirdest thing was, he seemed interested. In her. For real, even after she'd told him about the cancer diagnosis. Not that he knew everything. She'd never told anybody the whole truth about her condition, about what the chemotherapy had done to her body, not even her mother. If things got serious between them, she'd tell him the truth, so he could move on to another woman, one less damaged. Because a man like Carter deserved a healthy woman, not someone like her.

  But today, they were having lunch, and what could be more innocent than that?

  It was a beautiful November day with sunny skies and temperatures in the sixties, so she was surprised when he parked his truck on the street in front of her store. He stepped inside a moment later, smiled when he caught her eye. "You ready?"

  She waved good-bye to Andrew and followed him out. "I figured we'd walk to Murphy's again. You have better plans?"

  He held his passenger door open. "I wanted to show you something, if that's okay."

  She slid inside, noticed the large sack in the center of the bench seat, and considered peeking. She was sure she could smell french fries and longed to pop one in her mouth. She managed to restrain herself.

  He climbed in beside her. "I took the liberty of getting us lunch. I hope you don't mind. I got a couple of burgers, but I got you a salad, too, 'cause I know you like that."

  "Healthier," she said.

  He paused, nodded. "Right. That makes sense."

  "But I think I'll live on the edge and eat a burger today. Did you get fries?"

  He chuckled. "Two large orders. Will that be enough?"

  Who knew? She was feeling reckless. When she was younger, reckless meant trying the ski jump at the local lake. Now, it meant eating fried food.

  He drove out of town and turned onto a country road she hadn't driven down in years. Mostly ranches and farms this way. They chatted about nothing for a few minutes while she took in the bleak winter landscape. Come spring, everything would be verdant and vibrant again.

  "My folks own the land over there." He pointed to their right. Beyond the cattle grazing in the field, a pretty white house sat on the horizon surrounded by a copse of trees, a swing set, and a few outbuildings.

  "I live in a trailer on their property. You can't see it from here. It's a temporary home, though, until I find something permanent."

  "You want to live on a ranch, too?"

  "Never cared for horses. I'd make a terrible cowboy."

  She smiled and tried to picture GQ in a cowboy hat. He could make it look good.

  "But I'd like a house and some land, a place with a building where I could work."

  "I thought you liked being in town. Liked walking to lunch and to see…to the store."

  "To see you?" He glanced at her, his expression amused. "I do. Very much." He reached over the sack between them and took her hand. "I particularly enjoy seeing you. But I can't live on my parents' land forever, and it would be more cost efficient if I owned my workshop instead of renting. And, well, there are other reasons, too."

  She started to ask about the other reasons, but he slowed the truck and turned down a narrow dirt road. More trees lined this side of the street, so she wasn't sure where this would lead until they came through the wooded area and reached a house. Not an old farmhouse. This was newer, painted yellow, with a pretty wraparound covered po
rch decked out with white spindles that reminded her of her grandparents' home in Baton Rouge. Dormered windows jutted out from the second floor and overlooked the spacious yard. A detached two-car garage stood at the end the driveway beyond the house. Off to one side, an old barn watched over the place.

  He parked in the driveway. "I made an offer on it last week, and this morning, they accepted."

  "You're buying it? This house?"

  He nodded, took in the house, then the barn. "I'll have to renovate the barn, but once I do, it'll be perfect for my workshop."

  "What does it need?"

  "Uh, a floor. And insulation. And ventilation. And, well, just about everything. But I prefer the look of the barn to one of those manufactured buildings, don't you?"

  "Absolutely." It was charming, the whole place was. The perfect place to raise a family.

  A family.

  Obviously Carter wanted a family to fill this home. She had to tell him the rest of her story. She would, too. Today. Before he took her back to the store. She had to yank off this fantasy like a bandage, before she got too attached.

  The empty feeling in her stomach told her it was too late.

  They climbed out of the car. "Would you grab the sack?"

  She did, and he grabbed their drinks, then pulled a blanket from the bed of his truck. They stepped onto the porch, the wood creaking beneath their feet. A wicker swing covered in dust and cobwebs hung from one side, and the space seemed to beg for a couple of rocking chairs. "I haven't closed yet, of course, so we can't go inside, but I asked if I could come over for lunch. Nobody lives here, so the owners didn't mind."

  He spread out the blanket on the porch, and they sat and shared their meal while he talked about his plans for the house and the yard. Seemed he was pretty handy—no surprise there—and would do most of the work himself. When he had it done, he'd work right there in that barn, come in for lunch. She could picture it, him walking across the yard, smiling at his perfect wife, greeting his beautiful children. Jo wasn't in that picture.

  "I have to tell you something." She blurted the words, and she'd need to keep blurting before she lost her nerve.

  "Okay."

  "I can't... I mean, there's a really good chance..." She'd never said this aloud, never admitted it to a soul. Not her mother. Not her friends. But things were going too fast with Carter, and he needed to know. Needed to get out before it went too far. She sipped her drink, set it down, met his eyes.

  He was watching her silently. Patiently.

  "I'm not going to be able to have children."

  His jaw dropped, and she felt so stupid. So exposed.

  "I mean, it probably doesn't matter to you. Not that we were going to... But this place, this house, this yard. Obviously, you want... I don't want you to waste—"

  "Stop."

  She closed her mouth, stared at the pecan trees near the road, tried to rein in her emotions.

  He rubbed her back with his warm hand. "Would you look at me?"

  She forced her gaze up.

  "I'm so sorry. That must be a terrible thing to hear. It's not definite, though?"

  She shook her head. "It's only that, when I started chemo, my cycle got all screwed up, and they said it would go back to normal after, but..." She looked down, tried to inch away from him, wanted to cover her head with her arms and bury herself in shame. What was she doing, telling him this?

  He scooted closer, gently pulled her head onto his shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

  His kindness only made her eyes sting. "I've never told anyone."

  "I'm glad you told me."

  She shifted away, broke contact. She couldn't touch him, couldn't be so close to him. She wiped her eyes and kept her gaze on the floor of the porch. "So you should find someone else—"

  "Stop doing that. Stop trying to give me an excuse to walk away." He shifted to face her. "I'm not walking away. Your news breaks my heart for you, Josephine, but I'm not walking away."

  He should, though. If he were smart, he would. He was too nice.

  She reached for her drink, and he handed it to her. She sipped and tried to figure out how to get their nice lunch back.

  "There's something I need to tell you."

  Uh-oh. Here it came. It hadn't even taken him three minutes to come up with a good excuse to dump her.

  Or maybe...when he'd invited her to meet his parents Friday night, she'd dismissed the idea that he might be married, but now, this house, that tone of voice, and he fact that he'd been too busy all weekend to spend time with her.

  She could tell by his voice that she was about to get some terrible news.

  At least when he told her his secret, she could move on without the crushing grief.

  Theoretically, at least.

  She set her drink down, took a deep breath, and rested her hands in her lap. "Go ahead."

  Her cell phone rang.

  She hated to wait to hear what Carter had to say, but she had to check. She snatched the phone from her sweatshirt pocket and saw the number. Her stomach wanted to expel that burger. Same reaction she always had when she saw that word on her phone's screen. Hospital.

  She swallowed her fear. "I have to take this."

  She connected the call, said, "Hello," and then braced herself.

  "Hi Jo. It's Dr. Rashid."

  The doctor. Not a nurse. Not an assistant.

  She glanced at Carter's face, knew by the expression in his eyes that her fear must show.

  "What is it?"

  "It might be nothing." Dr. Rashid's voice was deep and soothing. "A virus, perhaps, or a bacterial infection."

  "But?"

  "Your white blood count was too high. You need to come back right away."

  11

  "Can I please drive you to the city?" Carter asked again.

  The drive back to town had been mostly silent. He had been able to feel Jo's fear when she'd answered the phone. Funny how he could already sense her mood shifts. When she'd told him her bad news, he'd been able to sense her grief. And shame, as if she had something to be ashamed of. Then the phone call had come, and the shame had been replaced by terror.

  She'd explained what the doctor had said, what it might mean. That it might mean nothing.

  That it might mean cancer.

  Her answer was the same as it had been the last few times he'd asked to accompany her to the hospital in Oklahoma City. "No, thank you." Then she looked at him and sighed. "It's not like they'll know right away. Not like I'm going to get a cancer diagnosis while I sit there. They'll draw blood, then send me home. There's no reason for you to take a day off work."

  "I don't want you to be alone."

  "I'm fine. If I need company, I'll ask my mother."

  "So will you? Ask your mother?"

  She hadn't even told her mother about the other thing, the baby thing. So why would she tell her mother this? But surely it wasn't a good idea for Jo to drive to the city alone.

  The only sound came from the rumble of the tires over the seams in the road. Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum.

  "No," she finally said. "Mother doesn't need to know until I know more. There's no reason to worry her."

  "So let me drive you."

  She sighed. "I appreciate that, I do. But I'd rather go alone."

  He started to ask why, but maybe he was being too pushy. Too needy. Too...whatever it was that made women run from him. He wanted to hold her hand again, but her arms were crossed over her stomach like she was holding herself together. Why wouldn't she let him drive her? How could she get to the city like that?

  But she'd refused him three times. He wouldn't ask again.

  "What were you going to tell me?"

  "Oh." He thought of his news. Now was definitely not the time to tell her he'd been dishonest about his daughter. Later, when they knew what was going on, he'd tell her about Sara. Maybe it would be good news. Maybe she'd love Sara like a daughter.

  But he was getting ahead of himself. Way ahead. Even that d
ream would have to wait until they knew her prognosis.

  "It's nothing," he said. "Nothing that can't wait."

  "Okay, then."

  They reached her store, and she opened the door of the truck before he could come around and get it for her. He remembered her mother's words from the coffee shop. She's trying to be independent. He could imagine how being sick would make a person feel dependent, vulnerable. Maybe she needed to act strong in order to be strong. If that were the case, he wouldn't fault her for it. He followed her into the store's lobby, where Andrew was behind the counter helping an elderly man mail a pile of boxes.

  "Thanks for lunch," Jo said. "The house is really nice."

  "I'll show you the inside as soon as I get the keys."

  She opened her mouth, closed it again, and then said, "I'd better get on the road. They're going to hang around until I get there."

  He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss the fear from her face. He worried she wouldn't react well to that, so instead, he took her hand and lowered his voice. "I'll be praying. Please let me know as soon as you know something."

  "I won't know anything today."

  "Right. Will you call me when you get back into town?"

  "It'll probably be late."

  "I'll wait."

  She smiled, a sad expression that broke his heart. "Okay. I'll call."

  He kissed her cheek, squeezed her hands again, and walked out. He'd count the hours until he heard her voice again.

  12

  Jo'd been avoiding her mother since Monday afternoon. The calls, the texts. She didn't want to lie to her mom about Friday's test results, and she didn't want to tell her the truth, either. So avoiding her seemed the kindest option.

  Unfortunately, Lila Domani could be as determined as a puppy with a pull toy.

  Pushy was the word that came to mind when her mom barreled through the door of the store first thing Wednesday morning. After checking to see that the lobby was empty—small favors—she rushed the counter. "I can't believe you haven't gotten the test results yet. This is ridiculous. Have you called the doctor to complain?"

  Jo sighed and looked up from the monitor, where she'd been sorting through the week's sales. Things were starting to pick up, and if the other store owners around the country were to be believed, sales would explode the following week. If what happened in other stores happened in hers, she could go for months off the revenue that would come in the next few weeks.