“You could have called or texted.”
She could have, of course, but she hadn’t been ready to talk to her sister about it. The shock of seeing Trey so unexpectedly had churned up all kinds of emotions, and she needed some time to sift through them before she could talk about them. Unfortunately, the thirty-six hours that had passed since then still hadn’t been nearly enough.
“It wasn’t that big a deal,” she hedged.
Kristen’s brows lifted. “The father of your baby is back in town—I think that’s a pretty big deal.”
Kayla pushed her bedroom door closed. “Can you please keep your voice down?”
“Everyone is downstairs having breakfast.”
“Which is where we should be, too,” Kayla said. “And if we don’t go down, Mom’s going to come up here looking for us.”
“We’ll go down in a minute,” Kristen said. “I want to know how many times you’ve seen Trey since he got back.”
“Once.”
Her sister’s gaze narrowed.
“Okay, twice,” she acknowledged. “But they were both the same day.”
“Did you tell him?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I didn’t know how.”
“It’s only two words—I’m pregnant.”
Kristen made it sound so easy, as if Kayla was making it harder than it needed to be. And maybe she was. But she was the one who had to find the right time and place to say those two words, and she didn’t appreciate being bullied by her sister.
She blinked back the tears that threatened. “And on that note, I’m going down for breakfast.”
Kristen reached out and touched her arm, halting her departure.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly, sincerely. “It’s just that I can see how this is tearing you up inside, and it’s going to continue tearing you up until you find a way to tell Trey—and that’s not good for you or the baby.”
“I know,” she admitted.
“Besides, I saw an adorable little bib the other day that read, ‘If you think I’m cute, you should see my aunt,’ and I want to be able to buy things like that and bring them home for your baby.”
Kayla managed a smile. “You’re going to spoil this kid rotten before it’s even born, aren’t you?”
“I’m going to try,” Kristen confirmed.
They left the room together, Kayla feeling confident that whatever happened with Trey, her baby was going to be surrounded by the love and support of her family.
* * *
Trey decided that he wanted to see Kayla again more than he wanted to play it cool. Besides, what was the point in waiting a few days to call when it only wasted a few days of the short time that he was in town?
She answered the phone with a tentative hello—obviously not recognizing his number. But even hearing her voice say that one word was enough to make him smile.
“I was hoping to take you out for dinner tonight.”
She paused. “Trey?”
“Yeah, it’s me,” he confirmed. “Are you free?”
“Oh. Um. Actually, I’m not,” she said. “I’m on my way to Kalispell with my sister.”
“What’s in Kalispell?”
“A Christmas Carol.”
“Another movie?”
“No, the play. Kristen is Ebenezer Scrooge’s fiancée, Belle.”
“I didn’t know Scrooge was married.”
“He wasn’t. She ended their relationship when she realized he loved money more than he loved her.”
“I don’t remember that part of the story,” he admitted.
“Maybe you should buy a ticket to see it onstage, to refresh your memory.”
“Would you go with me?”
“I’ve seen it a dozen times already from the wings.”
“Is that a yes?”
She laughed softly. “No.”
“Okay—what are you doing tomorrow?”
“I don’t have any specific plans,” she admitted.
“Can I take you out for lunch?”
She hesitated, and he wondered if she was searching for another excuse to say no. And if she did, then he should finally take the hint and stop asking. He wasn’t in the habit of chasing women, and he wasn’t going to sacrifice his pride—and his relationship with Derek—to chase after his friend’s little sister.
But when she finally responded, it was to say, “That would be nice.”
“I’ll pick you up at noon.”
“I’ll meet you,” she said quickly.
“You don’t want me coming to the ranch?” he guessed.
“I just don’t think there’s any reason for you to drive all the way out here just to turn around and drive back into town again,” she said. “Especially when I have to stop by the newspaper office in the afternoon, anyway.”
“Okay,” he relented. “Where do you want to meet?”
“How about Daisy’s again?”
He made a face that, of course, she couldn’t see. But when he mentioned lunch, he was thinking a thick juicy burger or a rack of ribs from the Ace in the Hole. Sure, the donut shop did hot beverages and pastries, but he wanted a real meal. “Do they have much of a lunch menu?”
“I’m sure you’ll find something that appeals to you.”
He suspected she was right, though he wasn’t thinking about the diner’s menu.
“Okay, I’ll see you at noon tomorrow.”
He was smiling when he hung up the phone—then he turned and found his grandmother in his doorway.
“Who are you seeing at noon tomorrow?”
He could hardly take her to task for eavesdropping when he hadn’t bothered to close his door. “A friend.”
“A female friend, I’d guess, based on the smile on your face.”
He focused his attention on the plate in her hands. “Is that sandwich for me?”
“You didn’t come down to make anything for yourself, and I didn’t want you messing up my kitchen after I’d cleaned it up.”
He kissed her cheek. “Thank you.”
“Do you have beverages?” Melba asked, glancing toward the mini-fridge in the corner of his room.
“I do,” he confirmed. “And chips in the cabinet.”
“Don’t be getting crumbs all over,” she admonished.
“I won’t.” And he knew where the broom was kept if he did.
She nodded. “Was that the Dalton girl you were talking to?”
“You don’t give up, do you?”
“I should give up hoping that my grandson finds a nice girl to spend his life with?”
He held up his hands. “You’re getting way ahead of me here,” he told her. “I’m talking about lunch, not a lifetime commitment.”
“Every relationship has to start somewhere,” she said philosophically.
He knew she was right. He also knew it was far too soon to be thinking about anything long-term with Kayla Dalton. They hadn’t even been on a real date, and he wasn’t sure that their lunch plans even counted as such.
He really liked Kayla. He wasn’t sure what it was about her that set her apart from so many other girls that he’d met and dated in recent years. He only knew that he wanted to spend time with her while he was in town and get to know her better.
And yes, he wanted to make love with her again when his brain wasn’t clouded by alcohol. He wanted to know if her lips would taste as delicious as he remembered, if her skin would feel as soft beneath his hands, if her body would respond to his as it did in his dreams.
But he was prepared to take things slow this time, to enjoy every step of the journey without racing to the finish. And he was looking forward to lunch being that first
step.
Chapter Five
Kayla was waiting for Trey outside the diner when he arrived. She’d dressed appropriately for the weather and looked cute all bundled up in a navy hip-length ski jacket with a knitted pink scarf wrapped around her throat and a matching hat on her head. Her legs were clad in dark denim, her feet tucked into dark brown cowboy boots.
“Busy place,” he noted, opening the door for her so they could join the lineup of customers waiting to order at the counter.
“As I’m sure you’re aware, dining options are pretty limited around here.”
He was aware—and reassured to see a few local ranchers chowing down on hearty-looking sandwiches.
“It doesn’t look as if the newlyweds regret their impulsive ceremony or intoxicated nuptials,” Kayla noted, nodding toward a table where Will Clifton was sitting with his wife, Jordyn Leigh.
Trey had heard that the couple married on the Fourth of July while under the influence of the wedding punch, but something about Kayla’s choice of words struck a chord—as if he recognized the phrase intoxicated nuptials from somewhere.
“I heard a lot of people did crazy things under the influence of that punch,” he said.
An elderly woman in a long, purple coat with an orange cap over her gray hair was standing ahead of them in line, and she turned back to face them now. “For some, the repercussions of that night are yet to be revealed.”
Trey didn’t know what to make of that cryptic comment, but Kayla’s cheeks drained of all color.
“What was that about?” he whispered the question to her.
“I have no idea,” she said.
“Who was that?”
“Winona Cobbs—a self-proclaimed psychic who moved here from Whitehorn a couple years back. Apparently, she used to run a place called the Stop ’N’ Swap, but now she writes a nationally syndicated column, Wisdom by Winona.”
“She’s a little scary,” he said. “Not just what she said, but the way she said it, as if she knows something that no one else does.”
“Some people think she truly has a gift, others think she’s a quack.”
“What do you think?” he asked.
Kayla’s expression was uneasy as she watched Winona settle at an empty table. “I think we should get our lunch to go.”
“To go where?”
“We can eat in the park,” she suggested.
“You want to eat outside?”
“It’s a beautiful day,” she pointed out.
“It’s sunny,” he acknowledged. “But the temperature is hovering just above freezing.”
“I have a blanket in my car.”
He’d been born and raised in Montana and was accustomed to working outside in various weather conditions, but even when the sun was shining, he didn’t consider thirty-four degrees to be a beautiful day. But if Kayla could handle being outside, he wasn’t going to wimp out.
He ordered a hot roast-beef sandwich platter with fries and slaw; Kayla opted for grilled turkey on a ciabatta bun with provolone and cranberry mayonnaise.
“To go,” she told the server.
Trey glanced around the diner. “There are plenty of tables in here,” he noted. “Are you sure you want to go to the park?”
“I’m sure.”
He carried the bag of food and tray of hot drinks while she retrieved a thick wool blanket from her truck. It was a short walk to the park, where she spread the blanket over the bench seat for them, folding the end back across her lap when she was seated.
Maybe it wasn’t exactly a beautiful day, but she looked beautiful in the sunlight. He didn’t think she’d ever worn a lot of makeup, but she didn’t need it. Those big blue eyes were mesmerizing even without any artificial enhancement; the soft, full lips naturally pink and tempting. She smelled sweet, like vanilla and brown sugar. The scent triggered a fresh wave of memories of the night they’d spent together and stirred his blood. Thankfully, his sheepskin-lined leather jacket was long enough to hide any evidence of his body’s instinctive response.
He opened the bag and took out the food, unwrapping Kayla’s sandwich so that she didn’t have to take off her mittens before turning his attention to his own.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
That was the extent of their conversation for a few minutes while they both concentrated on eating. Trey had to admit, his roast beef was delicious. The meat was thinly sliced and piled high on a Kaiser then topped with gravy so piping hot, there was steam coming off his sandwich.
When the sandwich was gone, he turned his attention to the fries—thick wedges of crispy potato that were equally delicious. “Obviously, Daisy’s Donuts has a lot more going for it than just donuts these days.”
“I told you you’d find something you liked.”
“So you did,” he agreed.
A gust of wind blew her hair into her face. Kayla lifted a mittened hand to shove it away.
“Your hair looks different today,” he noted.
“It’s covered by a hat,” she pointed out.
“Aside from that.”
She shrugged. “I haven’t had it cut in a while. It’s probably longer than it was in the summer.”
He wrapped a strand around his finger, tugged gently. “You wore it pinned up at the wedding.”
She nodded.
He remembered taking the pins out of her hair and combing his fingers through the long, silky tresses. Of course, he didn’t mention that part to her, because he knew that she was still a little embarrassed about what had happened that night.
“So you mentioned that your sister plays the part of Scrooge’s fiancée in A Christmas Carol, but you didn’t tell me what your role is.”
“I work behind the scenes,” she told him. “Helping out with costumes, scenery and props.”
“So you don’t have to be there for every performance?” he guessed.
“No. I usually work Wednesday and Thursday nights, and the occasional Saturday matinee.”
“That’s a pretty big commitment.”
“Kristen does eight shows a week,” she noted. “And Belle isn’t a major part, but she’s also the understudy for Mrs. Cratchit.”
Once again, she’d deflected attention away from herself in favor of her twin. Trey noticed that she did that a lot. What he didn’t know was if it was because she was proud of her sister or uncomfortable having any attention focused on herself.
Now that he thought about it, she’d always seemed content to hover in Kristen’s shadow, but he didn’t remember seeing much of her sister on the Fourth of July. “Was Kristen at the wedding?” he asked her now.
“Of course,” Kayla responded. “Although she spent most of her time on the dance floor or with Ryan.”
“I’m glad she was preoccupied,” he said. “Because I don’t think you would have approached me if you’d been hanging out with her.”
“Probably not,” she acknowledged. “But even without Kristen around, I wouldn’t have approached you if I hadn’t been drinking the spiked punch.”
“Then I guess I should say thank you to whoever spiked the punch.”
She narrowed her gaze on him, but the sparkle in her blue eyes assured him that she was only teasing when she said, “Maybe it was you.”
“The police still haven’t found the culprit?”
She shook her head. “No, and I’m not sure they ever will.”
“What makes you say that?”
“It’s been five months and there’s no new evidence, no more leads to follow, no other witnesses to interview.”
“What about Boyd Sullivan?” he asked, referring to the old man who had literally bet his ranch in a high-stakes poker game the night of the wedding.
“I’m sure they’d like to talk to him, if they could find him, but I doubt that he’s responsible for spiking the punch when that’s believed to be the reason he lost his home.”
“Some pretty strange things happened that night,” he acknowledged. “But it wasn’t all bad, was it?”
* * *
Kayla knew he was asking about the time they’d spent together, and seeking reassurance that she had no regrets.
“No,” she said in response to Trey’s question. “It wasn’t all bad.”
But he didn’t know that there were unexpected repercussions from that night, and she had to tell him. There probably wouldn’t be a smoother segue into the topic or a more perfect opportunity. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words—those two simple words—stuck in her throat.
Because those two words would only be the beginning of their conversation. Once she told him about their baby, he’d have questions—a lot of questions. How could she explain to him how it had happened when she wasn’t entirely sure herself? And how could she possibly justify remaining silent about the fact for so long?
“But you wish you hadn’t gone back to my room with me?” he guessed.
“No. I just wish...”
“What do you wish?”
She shook her head. “I just want you to know that I don’t usually do things like that. At least, I never have before.”
He frowned. “You weren’t a virgin.”
She flushed. “I didn’t mean that. I only meant that I’ve never had a one-night stand before.”
“I didn’t invite you back to my room with the plan that we would only spend one night together,” he told her. “But the next morning, well, you know that I was a little hazy on the details. And you seemed to want to pretend it had never happened, so I decided to play along.”
“I thought you didn’t remember.”
“I wouldn’t—couldn’t—forget making love with you,” he told her.
“But you never even looked at me twice before that night.”
“That’s not true. The truth is, I was always careful not to get caught looking at you, because of my friendship with your brother.” He crumpled up his sandwich wrapper, dropped it into the bag. “The punch didn’t make me notice you—it only lessened my inhibitions around you.”
Merry Christmas, Baby Maverick! Page 6
