by Zoe York
“Yeah. Owen Kincaid.” As Becca had warned, he practically barked it out.
“Nice to meet you.” It was the polite thing to say, but she wasn’t sure it was true. What’s your forking problem wasn’t appropriate to ask, but she really wanted to know.
It would come out in time. It always did. He wouldn’t be the first person to be bristly with her, and he wouldn’t be the last. She pushed it out of her mind and carried on with the rest of the appointment.
Becca was almost ten weeks pregnant, going by the date of her last period, but her cycles weren’t regular, so Kerry gave them paperwork for a dating ultrasound.
“I’ll call you with the results of the scan, and based on that, we’ll set up appointments. Monthly for a while, then they’ll get closer together.”
“Do you ever do weekend or evening appointments?” This was Mr. Kincaid asking, his voice catching on the words like they were barbed. “Becca has school until June.”
“Dad, it’s fine.”
“Our clinic days run until five, but depending on what time school lets out, I could stay a bit later. And it depends what office you want to see us in as well. You live in Pine Harbour, right?” Kerry pasted on her best you’re-in-luck smile and leaned forward. “That should make it easier, then, especially as the appointments get closer together. We’re opening a satellite office in Pine Harbour next month.”
“Oh!” Becca said.
Her father scowled. “Oh.”
She glanced back and forth between them, trying to translate the monosyllabic responses. “You can still come here for appointments, if that’s your preference.”
Becca didn’t reply and her father waited. At least he seemed to follow her cues. Finally, she shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s a long drive.”
Kerry took a deep breath. “Either way, the appointments are confidential. Think about it and let me know. You’ll get an email with the next appointment details in a few days, and you can pick the location later.”
Owen was the first to stand. He already took up a lot of oxygen in a room while sitting and scowling. When he pushed to his feet, he towered over her. She’d have to jump onto her chair to look him in the eye, and if she tried that, she’d probably go sailing onto the exam table. Instead, she did her solid best to ignore him and focus on Becca as the Kincaids left.
It took less than ninety seconds for the clinic receptionist, Sarah, to appear in Kerry’s doorway. “How’d that go? You were in here with her alone for a while.”
“She was great,” Kerry said simply.
“I don’t mean the girl. How did it go with Mr. Alpha?”
She gave Sarah a pointed look. “No gossiping about the clients. Or their fathers.”
“Ooooh.” The receptionist sagged against the door frame, then leaned her head back, laughed, and fell forward into Kerry’s office, sinking into the chair Mr. Alpha himself had vacated just a few minutes before. As much as Kerry didn’t like to admit it, the nickname fit. He had a certain leader of the pack, don’t mess with my daughter vibe usually reserved for fictional characters.
Sarah blew a raspberry. “Her father. That explains a lot. I had some questions about their whole dynamic.”
“You and me both,” Kerry admitted.
“He’s pretty hot for an old guy.”
She made a noncommittal face. “I don’t have a read on him yet. He didn’t say much. But Becca’s great.”
“No commentary on the hot dad?”
“Nope.”
“That’s no fun.”
Kerry winked. “I save all my fun for after hours. Are we still on for dancing on Friday night?”
She didn’t have many more weekends of dancing left before she moved north. “You know it.”
When Sarah left, Kerry finished her notes, then checked the computer system to remind herself of her afternoon schedule. Lunch first, then two more appointments. That would give her enough time to call around and get some quotes for movers.
She had moved seven times in the last fourteen years. Until now, she hadn’t had the funds to afford professionals. She had a short list of moving companies she’d cribbed from review sites. The first place went straight to an answering machine. She left a message with her quote request, then moved on to the next. A person answered there, but only took the same information and told her someone would call back in a few days.
That wasn’t promising.
Maybe the third try would be the charm. This one she’d put a star next to anyway, because she liked the sounds of it. A local company run by army veterans.
She punched in the number. Someone picked up on the second ring. “Warriors Moving, Adam speaking.”
“Hi, I’m looking for a quote. I have a small one-bedroom apartment. A bed, a couch, a television, two bookshelves, and some boxes. Moving from Walkerton to Pine Harbour at the start of next month.”
“Sure thing, let me just grab our rate card. You can see this on our website, too.” He kept talking in her ear, and she pulled that page up on her computer. When he gave her the quote, it was exactly what she saw, and probably more than competitive against the other services she’d called.
Plus there was something about his voice that she liked. “Sounds good. Can I book that now?”
Chapter Four
By the time Adam from Warriors Moving showed up at Kerry’s apartment on the last Saturday in January, she felt like she knew him. He’d called once to go over the details, then again to let her know who her movers were and what time exactly they’d be arriving. On that second call, he asked if she’d prefer to receive text message updates, which she agreed to, and on the day of the move, he texted to say there had been a last-minute change and he’d be on the crew himself.
When he knocked on the door, he cheerfully introduced himself, and then pointed to his friend. “And this is Stevie. He’s the strong, silent type. Are you ready for us?”
Behind him was another man, maybe around the same age. Younger than her, in their twenties. She thought back to their flyer. Veterans shouldn’t be that young was her first instinct and then foolishness quickly followed, because of course vets were young. Most people didn’t stay in the military that long. She knew that from her work with young parents around the nearby training base—half of them were looking at getting out soon.
“Come on in. I’ll get out of your way,” she said, scooting to the side.
Adam winked at her. “You’re not in anyone’s way.”
She headed out onto the landing anyway to check her messages. The are you ready for us double entendre had been easy enough to read straight, but the wink confirmed that Adam was flirty. She both liked it and it made her feel the full weight of her thirty-three years, and that tug inside that told her flirting with guys in their twenties didn’t lead to babies.
Meddlesome ovaries, trying to restrict her dating life to suitable candidates only. She wouldn’t fall for that.
Her couch came out first, with a lot of grunts from Stevie and cheerful warnings from Adam as they made their way down the stairs. Then her boxes paraded past, one by one. The last thing to be loaded into her truck was her bed, in pieces.
Which meant that when they got to Pine Harbour, her bed was the first thing to be assembled in her new apartment.
“Clever,” she said as Adam and Stevie set the mattress down on the bed frame.
“Last thing in, first thing out.” Adam tapped his head. “Not just a hat rack.”
She laughed.
When they brought in the bedroom boxes, she dug through them and found her sheets, pillows, duvet and quilt. Even if the rest of the apartment was a disaster of cardboard and disorder for the next few days, she’d be able to sleep in comfort.
But by the time she made it into the living room, the thought of doing any more work or going grocery shopping was not at all appealing. So when the guys were done, she followed them downstairs. “Are you local?”
Adam nodded. “Born and bred.”
“Can you recommend a place around here to get dinner?”
“Mac’s Diner on the edge of town is where everyone goes. Or you can head to the Green Hedgehog in Lion’s Head if you want more of a pub. That’s the best place in the middle of the peninsula to grab a beer and make friends.”
Kerry was quite sure Adam Kincaid had zero problems making friends. “Good to know. I’ll start with the diner.”
That got her another wink. “We’re heading there, too.”
She would make sure to buy their dinner before she left with her takeout. “Great. See you there, then? I’m just going to lock up and take a minute to myself.”
“Sure thing.” He grabbed the clipboard his silent buddy had gone to the truck to grab. “Can I get a signature for our boss?”
Owen spent the day at a leadership conference for his army reserve unit. All he had wanted all day was a hamburger. A big, thick homemade patty topped with mushrooms and Swiss cheese, on a definitely-bad-for-him Brioche bun.
He hadn’t anticipated Becca bursting into tears as soon as he pulled the ground beef out of the fridge.
“What?”
“Are you going to cook that?”
He blinked at her. “That’s usually what happens, yeah.”
“Dad, it smells so gross. God. Please, no.” She gagged and ran from the room.
All right. So they were hitting that stage of pregnancy. He sighed, shoved the beef into a resealable bag, and tossed it into the freezer. His homemade burger plan would have to wait a month or maybe six. He gazed longingly at the mushrooms he’d picked up, decided it wasn’t worth risking those either, and stomped after his daughter.
“I’m going to Mac’s for takeout, do you want anything?”
From the other side of her closed bedroom door he heard a groan.
Knocking, he raised his voice a bit. “Bec? Can I come in?”
She opened it and gave him the saddest face he’d ever seen. “Can you get me some French fries?”
He frowned. “Yeah.”
“I can’t keep anything else down, Dad.”
“It’s fine. But you should call your midwife.”
“She has a name, you know. You keep calling her the midwife. I told you, I talked to Kerry last week about this, and she said it was normal.”
“Does she know you want French fries for dinner?”
“She told me to eat crackers. Fries are the same as crackers.”
“They are not.”
“Are they not, though?” She gave him a skeptical look.
He waited, but she wasn’t going to budge.
“I’m fine as long as you don’t cook any meat,” she said with a pout.
God help him. “All right. I’ll be back. Should I eat my burger at the diner or can I bring it home?”
She rolled her eyes. “You can bring it home. You just can’t cook it at home.”
“Good to know.”
By the time he pulled into the gravel parking lot, there was a text message from Becca, too.
Becca: And a milkshake! Vanilla. Kerry said I can drink milk, so don’t even start.
Becca: I love you.
Owen: You’re pushing it, kiddo.
Becca: la la la la love you.
The place was busy, so instead of standing by the counter, he turned and scanned the room. On any given day, there was a solid chance of an army buddy or a fellow first responder sitting in a booth.
Today was no different. Sprawled in a corner spot was his youngest brother, Adam, and a fellow ex-soldier, Stevie. Owen waved at them, then put in his takeout order with the waitress—including the milkshake for Becca and a slice of pecan pie for himself, because why the hell not—and pointed across the room. “I’ll be over there, holler when it’s ready.”
Adam and Stevie both had drinks, but no food yet. They all shook hands, and Adam gestured to the seat next to Stevie. “You want to join us?”
“I’m good. I’ve been sitting all day. Ryan Howard and I were at a leadership conference for the brigade. And I’m taking dinner home, anyway.”
“Sitting all day sounds good right about now,” Adam said. “We just finished a move.”
“Just the two of you?”
“Yeah. Small job. Nice lady. Real pretty. She’s getting takeout, too, actually. Let me introduce you.”
Owen opened his mouth to protest, but Adam was already waving his hand in the air. Under his breath, Owen muttered, “What are you doing?”
Adam grinned at him. “Reminding you that there’s more to life than work and fatherhood.”
Easier said when one didn’t have a mortgage or a kid to support.
His brother couldn’t read his mind, though. “Kerry, this is Owen, my big brother.”
Owen’s heart sank as he turned around. There was no way to avoid the awkwardness of the next moment, he realized that, and yet he still wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.
Standing in front of him in a tight, white parka, snug black leggings, and oversized winter boots was his daughter’s midwife.
Her gaze landed on his face and she froze. He froze, too. Nobody else knew about Becca’s pregnancy yet. Then she smiled, as if they’d never met. “Nice to meet you, Owen. I’m Kerry.”
“Kerry works with Jenna Foster.”
“The new clinic,” Owen said, leading them as quickly as possible through this charade.
“That’s the one.” She turned and looked at the counter. “My dinner’s going to be ready any minute now, so…”
It wouldn’t be, though. Not if she’d just come in and placed her order after him.
But he watched her walk back to the counter, then turned sharply back to his brother, who was shaking his head. “What?”
“Man, you are hopeless. She’s exactly your type.”
“I don’t have a type.”
“Becca’s leaving the house soon, it’s time to get back—”
Owen glanced over his shoulder. The white parka and dark curls were hovering near the cash register. No easy out from this conversation.
“I’ve got her number if you want it,” Adam said, laughter bouncing through his words.
Owen growled and waved him off.
The thing was, his brother wasn’t wrong. In another time and place, Kerry would be the exact type of woman he’d want to spend time with. Get to know, get to taste, get to savour. But Becca wasn’t leaving the house any time soon. And even if he had the bandwidth right now for some fun, her midwife was off-limits in that regard.
But he didn’t have the bandwidth. He’d never been great about juggling a private life and parenting. Add in pregnancy hormones to the mix and he was on thin ice.
Six more months. Then the newborn period. It wasn’t going to end any time soon.
When he glanced over his shoulder the next time, Kerry wasn’t anywhere to be seen, so he figured maybe it was safe for him to escape back in the direction of the cash register. “I should go check on my order.”
He said it in the direction of his brother, but he didn’t wait for a reply before stalking off. As he waited by the cash, his phone vibrated. Expecting another request from Becca, the back of his neck heated up with stifled frustration as he pulled the phone from his pocket. But it wasn’t his daughter.
It was his ex-wife.
Rachel: Do you want to come over for dinner tomorrow night? Hudson got a new smoker.
Owen: Becca’s developed an aversion to meat.
Rachel: Aw, crap.
Owen: I’m at Mac’s, picking up dinner because she didn’t want me to cook burgers in the house.
Rachel: I’m sorry. I’m laughing, but I’m also sorry.
Owen: It’s fine. This too shall pass.
Rachel: The smoker is optional. I could make a lasagna?
He made a face. He appreciated the way Rach and Hudson included him in things like their family dinners, but right now, he wanted to hibernate. But he had a daughter, and she had three half-siblings. Turning, he glanced back acr
oss the diner at Adam, now engrossed in a story he was telling Stevie. As much as his brothers had been royal pains in the ass over the years, they had also been his raison d’être. Family was everything, for better or worse.
Owen: Sounds good. Did you ask Becca?
Rachel: Not yet. I’ll text her. I wanted to check with you first.
Owen: K.
Text bubbles appeared, then disappeared. He could imagine Rachel’s words flying across the screen, then being deleted. They’d been total crap as spouses, but especially as Becca had slid into her teen years, they’d become good friends. Friends who knew each other well enough to guess what the other was trying—and failing—to say.
Owen: I appreciate the invite. I like our family dinners, you know?
Rachel: Me too.
He shoved his phone away, then glanced up at the waitress. “Order for Kincaid?”
“Two more minutes,” she said crisply. “Just waiting on fresh fries for you.”
Two minutes. Just enough time to remind his other family member here that he was appreciated. Owen strode back to Adam’s booth.
“What’s up?” his youngest sibling said, glancing up from his food.
“Do you have the day off tomorrow?”
“Yeah, sure do.”
Owen nodded. “Good. Let’s get together with Will and work on the car.”
“Not too early. I’m going out tonight.” Adam fist-bumped with Stevie across the table.
Owen gave him a half-smile. “Not too early.”
Just like that, he had a fully packed social calendar for the rest of the weekend. Family stuff, sure, but that was what he could handle right now. It might not be the social life he’d dreamed of for this year, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
Back at the cash, he paid for his food, carefully wrapped up for him to take home to his daughter. He tipped the waitress, waved goodbye to his brother, then stepped outside.
The first thing he caught sight of was a white parka bounding back across the parking lot. He told himself to take a sharp right turn. And he did—but not until after something in his chest lurched hard. Something a lot like what if and if things were different.
