He sank to a chair and held his face. Which was worse—that the baby be born healthy but not be his, or be his and born prematurely? It didn’t matter. He shoved up from the chair. “Bullshit.”
Pushing past Kate, he entered the room. The anger that propelled him past the door sank in his stomach when he saw Indy. She looked frail, lying on the hospital bed. He’d been successful in blocking out the smell of the hospital that would remind him of his mother’s last days, but this overwhelmed him.
She turned to face him. “Go home.”
“No.” He forced his feet forward. He slid the tray away from the bed. On it stood a cup of melting ice chips.
When he reached the bed he took her hand. It was cold, and he covered it with his other hand, offering his warmth. “I told you earlier tonight that our child would not be born a bastard. If I have to go hunt down a priest right now to marry us in order to prove it to you, I will. You will not push me away.”
Her lips trembled, and she pressed them into control. “The baby’s not yours. No matter what you hoped, or thought, it’s not yours. Do the math.”
“I’ve done the math every which way. Me minus you is zero.”
“You’re not making sense.” She squeezed her eyes shut, and a tear leaked from the corner.
He never made sense when he needed to for her. Not letting go of her hand, he sat on the edge of the bed. “I wish you’d gotten the chance to meet Patrick O’Leary. He was a great man. An amazing father. He always treated me like one of his own kids, whether it was buying me ice cream from the truck on a summer day or slapping the back of my head for being an ass.”
Indy’s eyes opened to slits. Puffy from crying, the green shone through more than the gold.
“When I left town, I never stopped thinking about you, but fatherhood wasn’t in the cards for me. I didn’t think I could handle it. After I came back, I talked to Eileen. She gave me the proverbial head slap. I was Patrick’s son, regardless of my last name.”
He leaned forward and kissed her lips. They were cold from the ice. He rested his forehead against hers, and their breath mingled. “I love you and the baby inside you. This child is mine regardless of genetics.”
Indy stared bleary-eyed at the baby in her arms.
A little girl.
A little girl who still had no name. She’d been sure that inspiration would strike when she saw her baby’s face for the first time.
All she felt was scared and tired.
The contractions had started again in the middle of the night and her water had broken. The flurry of activity of extra doctors and nurses confused her.
But Griffin had been there the entire time.
When she was sweaty and gross, he wiped her forehead with a cloth. When she didn’t think she had it in her to push again, he talked her through.
When panic gave way to hysterics as they took her baby to a warming table, he held Indy’s hand while watching over the shoulders of doctors to count fingers and toes.
It had taken forty-five excruciating minutes before they declared the baby okay. Forty-five minutes of lying in bed, feet in stirrups, feeling empty and scared. Forty-five minutes for the experts to decide that her six-pound infant was healthy and that she could hold her.
Only Griffin’s reassuring words had kept her sane.
He sat beside her now, sleeping in an uncomfortable chair. He’d refused to go home to sleep, and he looked like crap. Blood smeared on his tux shirt from when he’d cut the umbilical cord, he desperately needed to shave, and his hair stood up in odd patches.
And he was beautiful.
He was a good man. His mother would’ve been proud. His eyes popped open. They reflected the love she felt in her heart.
“What’s wrong?” His voice was rough.
“Nothing. I’m watching my two favorite people sleep.”
He leaned closer and kissed the baby’s head. “Do you think I can finally hold my daughter?”
“You hoped for a boy, didn’t you?”
He shrugged. “All I wanted was for her to be okay. She’s perfect.”
Indy scooped the baby and reached her out to Griffin. His broad hands cradled her small body. When he brought her close to his chest, Indy knew she’d never see a more perfect sight. Then she knew. The most fitting name flashed, and she knew.
“She needs a name,” he said, stroking the baby’s head. “I feel bad enough that we called her a him for all this time.”
“She has one.”
Griffin’s gaze swooped up to meet hers. “My daughter will not go through life being named Freedom.”
The laughter poured from Indy’s heart. “Her name is Colleen Alice. It gives her a lot to live up to.”
His eyes became misty. “Colleen Alice what?” He asked as if he feared her answer.
“Walker.” She stroked the top of Colleen’s head. “It doesn’t make sense to complicate her life with a name that’s not her father’s.”
“So you’ll finally marry me?”
“Yes.”
Griffin leaned forward and kissed her with Colleen snug and safe between them. Indy didn’t know how she could’ve questioned her happiness with him. Yes, family would definitely be enough.
Quinn’s Irresistible Chocolate Cake
2 c flour
2 c sugar
1 c cocoa powder
2 tsp baking soda
2 tsp baking powder
2 eggs
¾ c vegetable oil
1 tsp vanilla
1 c milk
1 c hot water
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Grease and flour two 8- or 9-inch cake pans.
Combine all dry ingredients in a large bowl. Add eggs, oil, vanilla, and milk, and mix on low until well blended. Slowly add hot water while mixing. Batter will be runny.
Pour batter evenly into prepared cake pans and bake for 30 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.
Cool in pans for a few minutes, and then remove to cool completely.
Frost when cool.
Chocolate Frosting
2 sticks soft butter
1 c cocoa powder
5 c powdered sugar
½ c milk
additional milk as needed
Mix butter, cocoa, and powdered sugar until combined. Add ½ cup of milk and mix completely. Add more milk to desired consistency. Frost bottom layer of cake. Add top layer and frost.
Did you miss Quinn’s and Ryan’s story?
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When a lonely teacher teams up with a handsome bartender for some outrageous acts, they both get more than they bargained for . . .
Learning her ex-husband is going to be a father, Quinn Adams is determined to have a baby of her own—without the partnership of a man. But her sister and friends believe she needs to focus on herself first, and step out of her comfort zone by completing a list of adventures. Challenge number one is to go on five dates within two weeks. After a few disastrous attempts, Quinn’s ready to give up—until sexy bartender Ryan O’Leary offers his assistance.
Ryan has always been the dependable one in his family, often at his expense. But lately, he’s been longing for a life—and a woman—of his own. The woman he has in mind is Quinn. Though it seems all she wants is friendship, Ryan can’t ignore the explosive chemistry he feels between them. In the hopes of becoming closer, Ryan offers to help out with Quinn’s list. But when she asks him for a serious favor, he’s afraid it will jeopardize his chance to become more than friends.
Chapter 1
Only girls’ night out could save this craptastic day, a heck of a way to spend her thirty-first birthday. Quinn pushed through the door to O’Leary’s Pub and allowed the surrounding dark wood to soothe her. She needed to banish the images of the glazed expressions of her colleagues at the end of the workshop she’d presented. A night with the girls would lighten her mood. But Qui
nn was early and the others hadn’t yet arrived.
Customers’ chatter washed over her, relaxing her, as she moved through the crowd. The noise offered welcomed anonymity.
She’d spent months preparing for the presentation, but being exhausted from her ex-husband’s late-night visit hadn’t helped her enthusiasm. Nick was still messing up her life. Two minutes into the workshop, she realized she would’ve been better off spending the time in the classroom with her hormonal students.
Her gaze scanned the room to find a source of comfort: Ryan O’Leary. Behind the bar, his lithe body slid past the other bartender. Perpetually mussed black hair swung across his forehead, barely concealing the dark slashes of eyebrows. Ryan reached out to grab an empty mug. He joked with patrons while he pulled the beer. His sleeves were pushed up, revealing toned, muscular forearms, the kind any woman would want circling her body.
Ryan was a living stereotype: the overly friendly bartender who joked too much and listened to any tale of woe a person told.
The thing was, she liked him anyway.
Using the brass rail below the bar, she boosted herself onto a stool.
The other bartender, who looked enough like Ryan that they had to be brothers, headed in her direction. Quinn saw Ryan tap his shoulder and overheard him say, “I got this.”
A moment later, Ryan appeared in front of her. His intense blue eyes crinkled with his smile, putting her at ease.
It was also the same grin he threw at every female in a fifty-foot radius. But she enjoyed it, even if it wasn’t just for her.
He placed a napkin in front of her and asked, “How’s my favorite English teacher today?”
Something about the way he asked made her answer honestly. Even in the middle of serving drinks, her response seemed to matter. She sighed. “I’ve been better. How are you?”
“Busy, which is good. Teenagers giving you a hard time?”
“No, it’s always the adults who are the problem. Give me a roomful of teens over adults any day.” She understood how to talk to the kids, and it didn’t matter if they liked her as a person.
“What can I get you to make your day better?”
“Frozen strawberry margarita.” Misery over her failed lecture swamped her. She began to think not even Ryan’s warm smile would break her funk. She’d been counting on the success of the presentation to give her a boost with Principal Carlson to get the Honors English position next year. Dwelling over Nick’s news made her day worse. Of all people to be blessed with a baby! He didn’t even want to be a parent.
Someday she’d celebrate pregnancy. Unlike Nick.
Someday.
Someday had become her mantra for years. Someday had already taken too long. She had no baby, no husband, and she hadn’t fought for a job she really wanted. God, I’m such a wimp. She wasn’t going to wait for someday anymore. Thoughts of babies took over her brain.
Ryan returned with her drink. Over his shoulder she caught sight of a cow with an O’LEARY’S PUB sign hanging from its neck and a photo of a burning building standing behind it, an image from the Great Chicago Fire. She’d never noticed it before.
“What?”
The question startled her. She hadn’t realized Ryan was still there, watching her. “Nothing. I love the cow. Are you related to the infamous Mrs. O’Leary?”
He chuckled. “No, both my parents are off-the-boat Irish. My dad thought it was funny to let people think that.”
Quinn looked over her shoulder toward the door.
“Waiting for someone, or did you just come in to see me?” Ryan teased.
She turned back to him. Her toes curled painfully in her too-tight navy pumps. How this man managed to put her at ease one minute and make her feel nervous the next baffled her. “I’m meeting my sister and our friend.”
“It’s good to see you here on a day other than a Friday. I was beginning to think you only came in because the other teachers made you.”
It wasn’t far from the truth. A friend from school had convinced her to at least put in the effort to socialize with colleagues. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the other teachers or didn’t want to be friendly; she didn’t know what to do with herself in social situations. Her sister, Indy, had inherited Quinn’s share of the social butterfly genes.
Strangely, over the past eight months, O’Leary’s had become a comfortable place for her. She appreciated the friendly atmosphere. Ryan’s flirting made it enjoyable. “I like it here. Your bar makes people want to hang out. And guys don’t crawl all over women trying to get their attention.”
He leaned closer and she caught a whiff of his cologne, woodsy with a hint of spice—or maybe it was just him—and she almost moved in to sniff. She had expected him to smell like alcohol, but he didn’t. He’d never been so near before, and the scent distracted her. She recovered in time to hear him add, “If you ditched the stuffy suit, more of these guys would hit on you.”
Heat crawled up her neck. “What’s wrong with my suit?”
The navy pleated skirt and matching blazer was her best business suit. Granted, she only wore it for presentations or parent–teacher conferences, but it was the most professional-looking one she had.
“It’s not sexy.”
She shook her head. First, the man sucks me in with a gorgeous smile and great smell; then he insults me. “I’m not looking to get picked up.”
“Sure you are. Everyone is.”
She sipped her drink to cool her throat. Self-consciousness made her straighten her pleats. His gaze bore into her, but she couldn’t meet his eyes. “Thanks, but no thanks. My ex worked in a bar, and I swore I’d never make that mistake again.”
“One ex-boyfriend screws up, so every man in a bar has to pay?” He looked at her skeptically, as if her point was ridiculous.
She’d learned plenty from her three years of marriage to Nick. As a bartender, he’d spent his nights surrounded by flirtatious women. Nick would tell her, “Hard to ignore women throwing themselves at you.” Like most men, he didn’t know how to stop at flirting.
“Ex-husband,” she shot back, realizing her tone implied his critical look earlier had been dead-on. “Most guys who are looking for a woman in a bar are not serious about anything. There might be a few who are nice guys, but I’m willing to risk missing out on those to save myself the grief of dealing with all the rest.”
He stepped back and leaned against the register. “Don’t you ever wonder if you’re missing out on Mr. Right by shutting down a proven method for meeting people?”
“Who says I’m looking for Mr. Right?”
He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows in disbelief. Okay, he had her there. She was always hoping for Mr. Right. Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to be looking for her.
“I don’t think a guy picking up women in a bar is looking for a woman like me.”
His grin was slow and slick and spread smoothly across his face. “Think you’re that special?”
Despite the embarrassment gnawing at her—she was not a braggart—she flashed him a grin of her own. She briefly tried to remember her reasons for not spending more time talking with him. “I know I am.”
“You know, I like you. Can I buy you dinner?”
She felt a blush heat her cheeks, and she fought ducking her head to hide it. “I told you I’m meeting friends.”
He looked at the ceiling and tightened his lips before speaking again. “I didn’t mean now. I meant some other time, at some other place.”
“I don’t think so,” she said quickly; then she saw Kate winding through the crowd. “My friend’s here. I’ll see you later.”
She eased off the stool and signaled to Kate. She couldn’t believe Ryan had actually asked her out. He flirted with just about every woman he saw. She wondered how many he asked out on an average night.
She and Kate gravitated to a semicircular, high-backed booth. Kate looked as tired as Quinn felt. Did Kate ever sleep? Having three small kids had taken its toll
on Kate’s once-elegant appearance. But even in old jeans and a sweatshirt, Kate exuded a confidence Quinn didn’t possess.
“Thanks for driving in. I appreciate it. I wasn’t sure what time I’d get out of my meeting and I really needed a girls’ night tonight.”
“Of course I’d drive in,” Kate said while pulling her into a quick hug. “Happy birthday. I don’t think I’ve ever been here before. It’s a nice change. Part of me misses coming this far into the city.”
“I like it.”
“Hi, guys,” Indy said as she reached the booth. “I haven’t been here in forever.”
“You’re on time. That’s a first.” Quinn slid toward the center, placing herself between her sister and Kate.
“Happy birthday, cranky-pants.” As Indy sat, the waitress arrived to take their drink order. “I was in the area showing a house. You couldn’t have picked a better spot.”
As they placed their order, Quinn scanned Indy’s appearance. Everything chic, from suit to hair and makeup. After her assessment, she asked Indy, “Know what I was just thinking about?”
Indy shook her head and waited.
“My Someday List.”
Indy’s nose crinkled and her coral-colored lips spread into a wide smile. “Really? You still have it?”
“No, but I was thinking about what a failure it was.”
Kate interrupted, “What’s a Someday List?”
Quinn answered, “It’s a list Indy and I started as kids of the things we wanted to do someday, when we were older and could do whatever we wanted.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t remember everything. Most of it was typical stuff. Go to Europe, fall in love, get married, buy a house, have kids.” The last thought sank in her stomach.
A Good Time Page 31
