BLAME IT ON BABIES

by Kristine Rolofson

"Good. I'll take care of these," he said, leafing through the blue slips of paper, but Chelsea lingered at his desk.

  "Is Bobby Calhoun coming into town today?"

  "I'm going out there. Why? You joining his long list of girlfriends?" He eyed her over the rim of his coffee cup. "I thought you had more sense."

  "Are you trying to give me dating advice, Jess?"

  "Never in a million years," he declared. "How the hell am I supposed to propose to that woman again?"

  "Again?"

  "Don't ask," he said.

  "How many times have you asked? Two? Three?"

  "Forget I said anything. Please."

  "Just show her the ring, Sheriff. The rest will take care of itself." She reached over for the carafe and refilled his coffee cup. "And hurry up. Everyone's asking me when the wedding's going to be."

  "Chelsea," he said, holding her gaze with what he hoped was his meanest and most threatening expression. "Do I look like I want the whole town to know my business?"

  "Uh, no, but you can't blame people for asking. It's all anybody can talk about."

  Great. Now all of Beauville knew about the wedding before the bride did.

  * * *

  Lorna looked up every time the café door jangled and someone else walked in. Jess hadn't shown up for coffee this morning and she realized she'd started looking for him around seven-thirty.

  She'd awakened in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and discovered she'd fallen asleep on the couch. Jess was gone, the house empty. He'd covered her with a lightweight blanket he must have found in her bedroom closet.

  "This marriage business," he'd said. "All wrong." She wished she could remember more. Wished he'd still been there when she woke up so he could explain what he meant.

  The trouble was, Lorna realized, as she poured coffee and served plates of eggs and bacon, French toast and pancakes, that she was falling in love with Jess Sheridan all over again. But this time it wasn't the crush of a young girl admiring the high school athlete. It wasn't the "right place at the right time" magic that happened last summer when she'd awakened to find herself against Jess Sheridan's very strong and very naked body. This time Lorna was very afraid she was falling in love for real. With a man who insisted upon taking care of his child and that child's mother. Who cared enough to meet her doctor, who bossed her into getting more rest, who bought her ice cream and rubbed her aching feet.

  "I didn't order pancakes," Mike said, handing his plate back to her. "I'm scrambled eggs and bacon."

  "I've got your eggs," the man two stools down from him called. Lorna helped them trade plates while she apologized. Falling in love again with Jess Sheridan didn't mean she had to act stupid. Her baby needed a mother who paid attention. And, she realized, a father Lorna could trust to care for both of them.

  "Lorna!"

  "What?"

  "You've got four orders getting cold up here. What the heck's going on?"

  "Sorry, Charlie. It's a little busy here this morning."

  He peered out of the serving window. "Not anymore than usual for a Friday."

  Lorna managed to deliver the breakfasts without mixing up the orders, but it wasn't easy. She realized she hadn't given Jess the receipt for the crib, so if he went all the way to Marysville to pick it up they wouldn't give it to him. When she refilled the coffee machine she remembered that her new rocking chair was still at Emily's house. Elizabeth's influence had resulted in three pregnant women heading home with three antique rocking chairs tied onto the roof of the car.

  "Lorna!" Charlie sounded like he was about to lose his temper, so Lorna stopped refilling coffee cups for the customers along the counter and turned around.

  "What?"

  "The coffee machine," he yelled. "You didn't put the pot back in!"

  "Oh, no," she cried when she saw the coffee dripping all over the back counter. She grabbed a thick dish towel to mop up the mess and burned her fingers on the scalding coffee spraying from underneath the basket. Charlie came around from the back and turned off the machine while Lorna held her fingers under cold running water at the sink. Various suggestions came from the customers, but Lorna knew that cold water worked best, for now, and if she needed anything else she could find something in Charlie's first aid kit under the counter.

  The problem, of course, was that folks were going to have to wait a few more minutes before they got fresh coffee. And Texans liked their coffee.

  And Charlie liked his customers to be happy and his waitress to be efficient. So when the cook frowned and the customers groaned, Lorna blinked back tears, dried her hand carefully with a paper towel, and helped Charlie clean up the mess. She reassembled the coffee machine, told the guys at the counter that she was fine and continued to clear empty plates. When the new pot of coffee was ready, she refilled cups throughout the restaurant, until the carafe ran dry. The back of her right hand stung and throbbed, but Lorna ignored it. It was her own fault, daydreaming about Jess when she should have been concentrating on her work. Next time the door jangled, she didn't look up hoping that Jess would walk through the door.

  Twenty minutes later she started looking again. So when Mike Monterro said, "Your boyfriend's here," she spun around to see. He waved to the sheriff. "You can have this seat, Sheriff. I've got errands to do this morning."

  Lorna tried not to show her surprise. It would be the first time she'd known the old man to leave before ten.

  "Thanks," Jess said, and the old man winked at him before leaving his money on the counter and picking up his cap.

  "Coffee?" she asked, poised to fill a dean mug.

  "I've had enough," Jess said, looking stern and tired and very, very determined. Lorna carefully put the carafe back where it belonged and then turned to ask him if he wanted breakfast.

  "There's a pancake special," she said, having no idea if he liked pancakes or not.

  "No, thanks," Jess said.

  She lowered her voice because she knew dam well everyone wanted to hear what she and Jess had to say to each other. Even Charlie had stopped banging pans and he loved banging pans – said it made him feel like a real chef. "I'm sorry about last night. About falling asleep while you were talking."

  "Probably won't be the last time," he said. "Could I have some coffee, Lorna?"

  "I thought you said you'd had enough."

  "I wasn't talking about coffee. I've had enough—" He stopped. "What happened to your hand?"

  "A little problem with the coffee machine. My fault," she admitted. "I wasn't paying attention."

  "I've got something for that at the office."

  "It's fine, really," Lorna insisted, flustered when he took gentle hold of her wrist to look at the red burns. "Do you want coffee? I'm getting confused."

  "Confused isn't the half of it," Charlie grumbled. He came out from the kitchen with plates of food on a tray. "She's a walking accident today." He delivered breakfast to a nearby booth of cowboys as Lorna watched. She knew she should feel guilty but she didn't. Not really.

  "Charlie really needs to hire more help," she said, turning back to Jess. He hadn't let go of her wrist, so she assumed that a cup of coffee wasn't high on his list of priorities right now. "What's going on, Jess?"

  "I'm going to have to arrest you," he muttered. "Come on." He released her wrist and called over to the cook. "I'm taking your waitress in for questioning," he said, and the café fell silent.

  "Are you crazy?" she asked. "Questioning for what?"

  "Come along, miss," he said, using his official tone. "We'll discuss this at the station."

  "I can't leave right now," Lorna said, but Jess winked at her. So she grabbed her purse and walked around the counter, past the cash register and over to the sheriff.

  "Oh, for cripe's sake," Charlie grumbled. "You can't leave me like this."

  Jess paused before opening the door. "You want to be charged with interfering with a police officer?"

  "You're not fooling anyone," the cook grumbled. The cowb
oys in a nearby booth gave Lorna the thumbs-up sign and an elderly lady drinking tea waved. "Don't bring her back," the cook called. "She's useless today anyway."

  "Charlie's going to fire me for this."

  "No, he's not, because you're going to quit." He motioned toward the truck. "Get in. We have to make a quick stop at the office first and put something on those bums."

  She started to protest that she wasn't going to quit her job, but thought better about arguing that point. The truth was, she didn't know how much longer she could keep up this pace. Or how much longer she could resist loving Jess Sheridan. "Okay," she said. And that's what she would say the next time he talked about getting married.

  Jess didn't love her – and maybe he never would – but it was time to stop thinking of what she couldn't have and start thinking about what was best for her daughter. She and Jess would love their child, and maybe that would have to be enough for all three of them.

  * * *

  Chapter 9

  «^»

  He kicked Chelsea out of the office and sent her over to the café to console Charlie who, Jess had finally figured out, was a cousin's second husband, not to be confused with the cousin due to give birth the same time as Lorna, Chelsea explained.

  "I'll be back in twenty minutes," the secretary said. "You have an appointment with Bobby at two. He called back to say he'd meet you at your old place. And, boss?"

  "Hmm?"

  "Remember what I said." Show her the ring, she mouthed behind Lorna's back.

  Jess nodded and pointed toward the door, but his secretary paid no attention. Instead she called to Lorna, "Don't worry about the café. Charlie has three nieces who are dying to make money to pay off Christmas bills. I'll remind Charlie and get help for him for the rest of the day."

  "The rest of the day?" Lorna looked as if she couldn't believe her luck. "Thank you."

  "Bye," Chelsea called on her way out of the room. "Have fun."

  Fun? Proposing to Lorna for the fourth time wasn't his idea of fun. Jess delayed the question by opening a closet and finding the medication to put on Lorna's hand. "Here," he said, sounding gruffer than he wanted to. "Sit down in my chair. This will help."

  "Good. It's beginning to sting," she admitted. "It was such a stupid thing to have done."

  "How'd it happen?" He perched on the edge of the desk and opened the jar. He dipped his index finger into the cream, then very carefully applied it to the bum marks on her hand.

  "I was daydreaming and didn't put the carafe under the coffee machine. You should have seen the mess.

  "Maybe it's time to stop working so hard." He released her hand and waited for the argument.

  "Maybe it is."

  Well, that was encouraging news. "Really?"

  "Yes. I've been really tired lately," she admitted. "I guess you've noticed. I'm sorry about last night, but I never knew how relaxing it was to have my feet rubbed."

  "I'm not a romantic man," Jess said, and she looked up at him with those big blue eyes that never failed to make him want to kiss her. He took a deep breath and resisted the sudden erotic visions of Lorna in his bed. "I'm not going to tell you I love you or promise things I can't deliver. When I make promises I keep them. And whether you marry me or not, I promise to help you support our child."

  "Jess—" she began.

  "Hear me out, Lorna. I don't think it's right for a kid to grow up without a father, especially if a perfectly good one is volunteering for the job, but if you're that set against marriage I sure can't drag you to a judge – even if it's damn tempting – and make you say 'I do'."

  "But I do."

  "What?"

  "I do," she repeated. "You don't have to drag me anywhere," she said. "You're right."

  "I am?" If that was true, this could be a pretty damn good day. Jess leaned forward.

  "We're in this together," Lorna said, still looking at him with those eyes that said, "Take me to bed and do it fast." "And I've begun to realize that I need—" She hesitated.

  "Help?" he supplied.

  "You." She shrugged, as if she didn't understand it herself. "Just you." She smiled then. "And some help getting the baby's room ready."

  Jess took a deep breath and then exhaled. He didn't expect to feel such staggering relief. This woman was going to marry him. He should want to run to Mexico and hide until his kid was eighteen, but instead he felt as if he'd been given some kind of special gift. "What made you change your mind?"

  She hesitated. "I'm not sure."

  Jess could tell she wasn't telling the truth, but he didn't push his luck. This wasn't the time for an interrogation. According to all the advice he'd been given, this was the time for jewelry. He leaned over and opened his desk drawer. Retrieving a gray velvet pouch, he said, "Hold out your hands."

  "Jess?" She looked stunned, but she did as he'd asked, and he poured the contents into her cupped fingers. She gasped as three rings landed in her hands.

  "They belonged to my grandmother," he explained. "I thought you could pick the one you liked best, or if you don't like any of them we can go over to Joe's and see if there's something there you like better."

  Lorna held the three rings in her left hand and picked up the platinum band with the three large diamonds set in something that looked like little flowers. She set it carefully on the desk and then selected the gold ring with the large blue stone – he thought he remembered his grandmother calling it an "aquamarine" – that was a shade lighter than Lorna's eyes.

  "Lorna?" Her silence shook him. He'd never shown Sue the rings; he'd mentioned them to her, but she'd insisted on something of her own that no one had ever worn before. He didn't think Lorna would feel the same way – she didn't seem to mind living in her Aunt Carol's house and none of the furniture looked at all new – but he could be wrong. He'd been wrong as hell about lots of things in the past years.

  She didn't answer. The remaining ring was also platinum, but looked more like a wedding band. Tiny diamonds, caught in the sunlight coming in the window near Jess's desk, sparkled along the front of the ring.

  Jess started to sweat. He didn't know Lorna well, but he sure didn't think of her as the silent type.

  "Say something," he demanded, wishing he knew more about rings. And more about women, too. "Are they too old-fashioned? The wrong color? What?"

  "I'm sorry," she whispered, setting the third ring next to the others on the desk blotter. She wiped her eyes with her fingers and looked up at him. "They're all very beautiful."

  "Then what's the matter?"

  "My fingers are too swollen." She gave him a lopsided smile. "I know it's a silly thing to cry about, but they're never going to fit me. Not until after the baby's born."

  "We'll get them resized."

  "I'm just going to swell up more, I think." She picked up each ring and put them back in the pouch, then handed it to him. "Put them away, Jess."

  "They're all yours," he said, disappointed, "if you want them."

  "They were gifts of love," Lorna said. "The platinum rings look like an engagement ring and a wedding band. It doesn't seem right because—"

  "Because we don't love each other," he finished for her. "What's that got to do with anything?"

  "I'll wait for a while," she said. "Until it feels right."

  He tossed the pouch in the desk drawer. "Have it your way, but I know my grandmother wouldn't have minded a bit. She was a practical woman."

  "Not with rings like those."

  "Platinum is stronger than gold, I believe," Jess said, helping Lorna to her feet. "The aquamarine is a little flashy, but Grandma liked to wear it to church."

  "Your grandma had good taste." She glanced at the dock. "I should get back to work."

  Over his dead body. "Chelsea was going to take care of that for you. You have no idea how efficient she is. Take the rest of the day off."

  "I could get a lot of things done in the baby's room," she said.

  He handed her the phone. "Call the café an
d find out." While she did just that, Jess checked his schedule. Officially, he had the afternoon off because he was working tonight. He didn't want Lorna getting "a lot of things done" this afternoon. She'd probably paint a ceiling and sand floors and Lord only knew what else.

  They would head north and pick up the crib. He would make sure she ate a healthy lunch. They would discuss the when and where of getting married.

  Jess left a note for Chelsea. He was going to Marysville instead of the Triple Bar S. Buying back his ranch could wait a while longer. And from the size of Lorna, getting married couldn't.

  * * *

  "It's next Friday," Chelsea declared as she hung up the phone. "At four-thirty."

  "What is?" Carter didn't look away from his monitor. The dope was playing solitaire.

  "The boss's wedding. Ifs supposed to be a big secret, of course. He didn't even write it in his appointment book." Men thought they were so smart, Chelsea mused. The sheriff didn't know that she went to high school with one of the clerks at the courthouse. Debbie still owed Chelsea a favor for covering for her the night in 1996 when she and her boyfriend drove to Austin for the Garth Brooks concert.

  "So? You know he doesn't talk much."

  "We're giving them a party, remember? I have everyone standing by."

  "He's not going to like it," Carter warned.

  "Lorna will."

  Carter shrugged as if to say he wasn't going to argue with her.

  "We're inviting everyone m town," Chelsea said. "I'll bet Mandy and Sandy Wynette will come." That made him perk up. The idiot didn't know the twins were too young for him and if they added the Wynette brain cells together there still wouldn't be enough to compare to a jackrabbit's.

  "I can't picture Jess going along with this," the deputy said, drumming his fingers on the desk. "He could get really ticked off. Someone could get fired and it better not be me."

  "We'll keep it simple," Chelsea promised. "Wedding cake and champagne at the Grange, so the new Mr. and Mrs. Sheridan have a wedding to remember."

  "The sheriff already had a wedding to remember. He went to Jake Johnson's and that's why he's in the mess he is now."