by Rhian Cahill
He’d wanted to deepen their friendship from the beginning. The idea he’d ruined it completely had sent him across the country; he hadn’t thought there was any hope for them after her parting words and his tuck-tailed run to Winter Lake, but now here she was.
Sleeping beside him.
Pregnant.
And all he could think about was pulling her close and holding on.
Never letting her go.
Chapter 7
Covington’s gaze darted around the room taking in the mismatched tablecloths, the shelves covered in knickknacks, the various photo frames hanging on the timber walls. In spite of the biting cold wind that followed them inside, she felt instantly warm, as though someone had walked over and wrapped her up in a welcoming hug.
The place had so much character. So much life. There were plenty of places in LA with both of those but Covington had never felt so at home before. Not even in her apartment had she felt this instantly relaxed.
Smiling, she turned to Tris. “I love it! It’s so…comfortable.”
“You want comfort? Wait until you taste the food.” Putting a hand on her lower back, he steered her toward a table near the window. “Nothing and nobody beats Della’s Dina for comfort food.”
She slid into the chair Tris pulled out as a grandmotherly woman with a beaming smile hurried their way. “Good to see you, Tristan. And who do we have here?” she asked as she handed Covington a menu.
Tris smiled and made introductions. “Della, this is Covington. Cov, Della, the genius behind this fine establishment.”
The older woman smiled at her and said, “She’s prettier than your usual companion, Tristan.”
“I have to agree with you, Della.” Tris grinned. “Although perhaps we shouldn’t tell Devlin. Wouldn’t want to bruise his fragile ego.”
Della laughed. “That boy’s ego could do with a little bruising if you ask me.”
Tris held up his hands. “I’m not getting into that discussion.”
The door opened with a whoosh of cold air, drawing Della’s gaze. “Oh. I’ll be right back. My grandson and his wife just came in.”
Covington watched as Della expertly wove her way through tables to the front door where the two people who had entered were removing their bulky jackets and scarves. They were easily recognizable in spite of their winter layers.
Kirby Swan and Race Parker.
Cov leaned forward, her gaze still on the new arrivals, and whispered in disbelief, “Race Parker is her grandson?”
“Yes. Do you know him?”
Her gaze swung to Tris. “Know him? Everyone knows who Race Parker is. And don’t get me started on how legendary Kirby Swan is.”
“Oh, right, you mean because they’re famous. I always forget that. They’re just Race and Kirby around here.”
“They’re just…” She stared at Tris, her mouth hanging open.
To prove his point, Tris lifted his hand and waved. “Hey, Race. Kirby.”
Covington snapped her mouth closed and gripped the edges of her seat.
“Hi, Tristan. You get that furnace at Miss Josie’s fixed yet?” Race asked as he headed their way.
“Yep, ripped it out. Decided not to risk another breakdown and installed a new one instead of repairing the outdated model.”
“Probably wise. I remember when Josie had that old one put in,” Della added. “Jack Peters did the job the year before he had his heart attack. Gosh, that must be a good twenty years ago now.”
“Do I know you from somewhere?”
Covington’s gaze zipped to the side, her eyes going wide and her stomach dipping low when she found Kirby Swan studying her with interest. “I…um…”
“Kirby, Race, this is Covington Valenti.”
Race smiled down at her. “Nice to meet you.”
“Covington’s an unusual name. I’d remember that if we’d met before. I could swear I know you though.” Kirby offered her hand. “Welcome to Winter Lake.”
Reflexes had Covington taking the superstar singer’s hand. “T-thank you.”
“Cov’s a dancer. Maybe you two have worked together before,” Tris offered.
“No!” Covington blurted, shaking her head. “We haven’t worked together.”
A strained silence followed her outburst and the comfort she’d felt moments ago vanished under a wave of embarrassment.
Race broke the awkward moment. “Well, we’ll let you get back to it.”
Kirby smiled and said, “Lovely to meet you,” before Race took her elbow and guided her toward the doorway at the back of the café.
“See. Just Race and Kirby,” Tris said with a grin.
Covington pulled her eyes away from the disappearing duo and shook her head. “Sorry. There isn’t anything just about either one of them.”
“You two need a few more minutes to decide what you want?” Della asked.
“Oh.” Covington jumped. She’d forgotten the other woman was there.
Her mind had been taken over by two of the country’s most famous singers. One of whom was this woman’s grandson. Way to make an impression.
In an attempt to appear less like a star-struck idiot and more like a completely sane customer, she asked. “What would you recommend?”
“Depends on how hungry you are. Tristan here always has the pot roast with extra potato and gravy.”
Tris chuckled. “You know me well.”
“That sounds good. I’ll have that too.” Covington smiled and held out the menu. “And a glass of milk.”
“Your usual iced tea, Tristan?” At his nod Della took the menu from Covington and confirmed their order. “Glass of milk, iced tea, and two roasts coming right up.”
After Della walked away Covington bent over and pressed her forehead against the table. Barely resisted the urge to thump her head on the hard surface. “Oh my god, I’m a complete idiot,” she muttered into the tablecloth.
“What makes you say that?” Tris wedged his hand between her head and the table.
Tipping her face up, she gazed at him with astonishment. “Are you serious? I just made a fool of myself because I couldn’t get over the fact Kirby Swan and Race Parker weren’t just breathing the same air as me, they were talking to me.”
Tris laughed. “I’m sure you’re not the first to get a little tongue tied.”
“I wish my tongue had been tied.”
“You weren’t that bad.” He chucked her under the chin. “Don’t worry about it. Here come our drinks.”
At the mention of fluid, a spasm gripped her bladder and she sat up straight, squeezing her legs together. “Oh.”
Tris frowned at her. “What?”
“I have to pee,” she whispered.
Grinning, he pointed in the direction Kirby and Race had gone. “That way.”
“Thanks.” Tightening her muscles, Covington waited until she was sure there would be no risk of leakage before she stood and dashed between tables and into the hallway.
She found the restroom and pushed inside almost taking out the woman coming out. “Sorry,” she called out as she rushed into the cubicle without looking back.
There were many things about being pregnant that Covington had discovered weren’t all glowing. One was her new toileting habit. No warning and no time to wait.
In the beginning she’d been caught out a number of times. Even had to go so far as to carry a spare pair of panties in her handbag.
Although she’d managed to avoid using them up until now, you could bet the minute she stopped carrying them around she’d be back to peeing her pants.
The information leaflets might have mentioned the whole need-to-pee-every-other-second phenomenon, but they failed to explain the embarrassing side effects.
Those she’d learned about firsthand, and after having had to purchase new underwear twice, Covington had wised-up and come prepared from then on.
Relief flowed out of her as coiled muscles unwound and the call of nature was answered.
God. In the last few weeks, peeing had taken the place of sex on the top of her list of best feelings ever.
Except that one night with Tris. That was the best feeling ever.
Which was sad when she thought about it. Sad that she’d only had one night, and sad that before him, she’d actually believed she knew what good sex was.
“You okay?”
Jolting on the seat, she threw out her hands, palms flat on the walls either side of her, and was thankful her naked ass didn’t end up on the floor.
Kirby Swan wanted to know if she was okay? Had it been Kirby she’d almost bowled over coming in here?
“Are you sick? Do you need help?” Kirby asked.
“N-no. I’m fine.”
What was with all these women asking her if she needed help to pee?
Okay, fine, two women, but still, did she look as out of control as she felt?
Covington waited for the sound of footsteps or a door opening but heard nothing except her own harsh breathing.
Why was she freaking out?
Sure, she’d idolized Kirby Swan for years, tried twice to get on the troop of dancers who toured with the singer and had dreamed about working with her, but it wasn’t like she was auditioning now.
Except first impressions and all that…
She sighed.
She’d be forever known as the crazy pregnant woman in the restroom at Della’s Dina.
Necessities taken care of, Covington tugged up her pants and thanked the cold weather for requiring bulky sweaters.
The one she’d borrowed from Tris came to mid-thigh and hid the fact the pants she had on no longer reached around her middle and therefore sat precariously low on her hips.
Good thing she’d grown an ass as well as a belly. That extra booty gave her pants something to hang on to.
“Going to have to bite the bullet and buy new clothes,” she muttered as she opened the stall door.
“What was that?”
“Argh!” Covington stumbled backwards, lost her footing, and landed on the toilet.
Thank god she’d closed the lid.
“Sorry.” Kirby reached out a hand. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Oh, you didn’t…” She smiled. “Okay, you did.”
Taking the offered hand, Covington got to her feet and tried to pretend it wasn’t the Kirby Swan helping her up.
“Thanks.” Letting go of the singer’s hand, she moved past her to the basin and cringed at the thought of having touched Kirby Swan without washing her hands first.
Did she point that out?
Apologize?
Suggest she wash her hands too?
“Blair Carmichael’s White Lace.”
“What?” Covington’s gaze snapped up to meet Kirby’s in the mirror.
“You were the lead dancer in the video.”
“Oh. Yes. That was me.”
“I knew it! I never forget a face. I might not have known your name but I definitely remember your moves,” Kirby explained with a grin.
Covington frowned. She’d worked on that clip the week before she’d found Gavin in bed with another woman.
It was her best work, even if she said so herself, and that lying cheating jerk had ruined it for her by being a douche.
They’d wrapped early and she’d headed to Gavin’s to tell him about the bonus she’d gotten only to find him in bed with Steffii—double f, double i—the bulimic chick she’d beaten for the lead part in the video.
She still couldn’t understand why she hadn’t seen Gavin’s true colors before that day. When she looked back now, it was like red flashing lights going off the whole time.
God. She’d even let him talk her out of suspecting him of anything when she’d found a pair of panties in the wash that weren’t hers.
Somehow he’d convinced her she must have picked them up with her gear at the club she danced at two nights a week.
Can you say gullible?
How about stupid?
“Hey. You okay?” Kirby moved in beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve gone a little pale.”
“Hmm… Oh, sorry. Bad memories.” At the look of horror on Kirby’s face, Covington rushed to explain. “Not of Blair or the video. Other stuff—personal stuff—I’d rather forget about that happened during the shoot.”
“Oh. Sorry I brought it up then.”
“No. No, it’s all right.” She shrugged. “I shouldn’t connect one with the other. It really was a great video and Blair is a sweetheart.” Not to mention hotter than hot and the country’s latest pin-up hunk.
Although for all his gorgeousness, he hadn’t done it for her. The only one to manage that was Tristan, which said an awful lot about her relationship with Gavin.
Something to ponder at a later time for sure.
Right now she should get back to Tris before he sent in a search party or came looking for her himself.
“I should get back to…”
“Oh, right.” Kirby smiled. “Listen. This might seem strange but would you be interested in joining me and some of my friends at a book club? It’s nothing formal or anything. And really, it’s more of a wine and gossip club, but it’s fun and I’d love the chance to talk to you more.”
“I, um, really?” Why would Kirby Swan invite a virtual stranger to her book club?
“Of course. We’re always adding to the ranks and I bet Terra will want to ask questions about the choreography of the White Lace video.”
“Well…”
“You don’t have to decide now. I’ll write down the details so if you want to come, you know where and when. We’re at Lindsey’s this week.”
“Lindsey?”
“One of the original members of the Books and Bitches book club and one of my closest BFFs. You’ll like her. Everyone does.” Kirby grinned and opened the door. “I’ll duck into the office and scribble down the details for you.”
“Thanks.” What else could she say? It wasn’t every day she got to hang out with Kirby Swan.
Hell, it wasn’t any day. She wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the whole situation.
“I’ll think about it and let you know.”
“Sure thing.”
They entered the hallway and paused, Covington’s back to the restaurant. “Thanks again, for the invite.”
“You’re welcome. How far are you?” Kirby asked, gesturing to Covington’s slightly rounded belly.
“Four months.”
“Only four?” Kirby’s face scrunched up as she realized what those two words implied. “Ah…I mean…”
Covington laughed. “Don’t worry. It’s twins. I’m told I’ll be bigger than a house before they’re born.”
“Twins? Wow. You’ll have your hands full. Good thing Tristan is more than capable of handling things. He’ll be a great father.”
Smiling, Covington nodded. “Yeah, he’s going to be the best.”
“Cov?”
Air rushed through her lips as she sucked in a breath. Closing her eyes, she whispered, “He’s behind me, isn’t he?”
Keeping one eye squeezed shut, Covington cracked the other to find Kirby nodding at her, a smile of sympathy on her face.
Taking a deep breath, she opened her other eye and smiled. “I’ll let you know about the book club.”
“Sure. No pressure. I’ll bring you the details before you leave.”
Covington watched as Kirby turned and walked away, disappearing into what she assumed was an office.
Taking another deep breath, this one filled with fear and shame and hope, she spun around and faced Tristan.
Chapter 8
Tris didn’t know what to think or feel or do.
He stared at the woman who’d kept him awake more nights than any firehouse shift and wondered why the fuck he hadn’t thought he could be responsible for the babies in her belly.
Jesus Christ.
His babies!
“I’m sorry.” Cov reached out a hand but
lowered it before she touched him.
“I’m not.” He stepped forward and grabbed her retreating hand, squeezing it gently. “I’ll never be sorry about anything that’s happened between us.”
“I…” She swallowed, her eyes going glassy. “I didn’t know where you were.”
Shit. He’d left her. Spent the night with her then left town never to be seen again.
It didn’t matter that they’d used protection and there shouldn’t have been consequences; there were, and the babies were the least of those.
God.
They had history—a relationship—and he’d turned his back on it all because of a few words she’d said while in an emotionally raw state.
He’d been an ass. He was the one who should be apologizing.
“I lied. I’m sorry for one thing.” He couldn’t resist pulling her into his arms. “I should never have left you.”
“You didn’t have any reason to stay.” She sniffled against his chest and he hoped they weren’t about to have a repeat of this morning’s messy meltdown.
“I had plenty of reasons to stay.” He wanted to tell her how he felt but he wasn’t about to get into their complicated relationship in the back of Della’s where anyone could listen in.
They’d be fuel for the gossip mill soon enough.
Hell, they probably already were.
Cov had been in town since yesterday. Everyone and their mother would know about Tristan Harding’s pregnant visitor by now.
It explained why Della hadn’t batted an eye at seeing him with a woman.
Cov tried to pull out of his arms, but he held tight for a moment longer.
Sighing, she relaxed against him. “We should talk about—”
“Not now. Food first, then shopping, then home.”
Plus he needed time to think. And another moment of her in his arms.
“Why aren’t you angry?” she asked against his shoulder.
Good question.
There might be some anger swirling around in the kaleidoscope of emotions currently tangled inside him but it wasn’t at her.
Nope.
That was aimed squarely at himself for letting his wounded pride keep him from going back after she’d thrown him out.
