Accidental Father. Lauren Nichols
“I see. Well, I’ll be here until January. Longer if I like the town and the town likes me.” He nodded at the door she guarded so resolutely. “Would it be all right if I came in and looked around? I’d like to see your rooms.”
No! No, he couldn’t! “I’m sorry,” she blurted, “but I don’t have any rooms available right now. And I don’t think anyone else in town takes in boarders.”
“Then the vacancy sign out front is a mistake?” His mouth thinned grimly. “Maybe I should be talking to Miss Lillian.”
The second lie rushed out, even more desperate-sounding than the first. “What I meant to say is, I’m closing. This is my place. Miss Lillian passed away several years ago.”
Jake moved closer to the door, and Sarah took an uneasy step backward. A late-August breeze carried the earthy scent of his aftershave to her. She detected a marked difference in him from the man she remembered. This man was strong and confident—self-assured and determined. And suddenly she knew that his baring his soul to her that night had been an anomaly. He’d only shared his past because he was wounded and hurting, and he’d never expected to see her again.
“Look,” he said. “If you’re worried about what happened between us before, I don’t plan on repeating it. All I want is a warm bed and a roof over my head, preferably a little cleaner and a little closer to my office than the Twirling Spurs Motel. I wouldn’t be here long, and I’m willing to pay whatever you want. Right now, I just need to find somewhere to—”
Suddenly his gaze shifted from her face to a spot somewhere behind and to the left of her, and his grave features gentled. “Well, now,” he said. “Who do we have here?”
Miserable, Sarah turned around, already knowing who she’d see. As they’d talked, the inside door had drifted open and Kylie stood in the hall, silky black hair skimming her narrow shoulders, blue eyes peeking shyly from beneath her bangs. She was still wearing her pink eyelet nightie, and the beater in her hand was now frosting-free—which was more than Sarah could say for her daughter’s hands and face. Kylie ran to her, and Sarah lifted her into her arms, praying that she would never know the fear her mother was experiencing at this moment.
“What’s your name, cutie?” Jake asked with a smile.
Kylie hid her face in Sarah’s neck and whispered, “More f’osting, Mommy?”
Frosting, Sarah thought gratefully. Cookies. An excuse to terminate the conversation. “In a minute, sweetheart,” she answered, and faced Jake again. “I’m sorry, but I have cookies in the oven. I hope you find an apartment soon, Mr.—” Oh, God, she didn’t know his last name. They’d been as intimate as a man and woman could be, yet they hadn’t exchanged the simplest information.
“It’s Russell,” he supplied quietly, then added, “Sarah, relax. We didn’t do anything wrong. We both needed a friend that night. I was glad you were there for me, and I think you felt the same. At least until—”
Sarah jerked away from the screen. “I have to go. You might want to check the paper for apartments. Our weekly comes out today.” Then, before he could speak again, she shut the inside door and collapsed against it, tears filling her eyes.
She didn’t have one-night stands! She didn’t! Yet the child in her arms was proof positive that, once, she had done just that.
Sarah hugged Kylie close, kissed her hair, then put her down and watched her run into the kitchen. He couldn’t know. This man who had always longed for family—this man she’d known for only one hour—would want to be part of his child’s life. It was as certain as snow in winter. And Sarah would never share her daughter with a stranger.
She’d barely taken a step when she acknowledged the other reason for her anxiety. Beneath his questions and her fears, the electric attraction they’d encountered three years ago was still there. And if Jake learned that Kylie was his, they’d be thrown together again.
Maybe her life wasn’t a thrill a minute, but it was stable, orderly and uncomplicated, and she liked it that way. She didn’t know what would happen if hormones and memories tested her judgment…again.
Pulse pounding, Jake left the sparsely populated outskirts of town and drove back toward his office. On his left, towering mountain peaks rose out of thick, rich timberland to pierce the blue sky. But he was only half-aware of them.
He was thinking of Sarah. Pretty, honey-blond, brown-eyed Sarah. Pretty, frightened-to-the-bone Sarah.
He understood the awkwardness. They had intimate knowledge of each other—and they’d never expected to see each other again. Hell, he hadn’t been sure of what to say at first, either. But why the anxiety? Why the rattled, frantic behavior? Unless…
Of course.
A child usually meant there was a husband in the picture. Was she afraid that if she rented Jake a room, her new husband would see the tension between them and start asking questions? Or, he wondered, scowling, had she gone back to the womanizing creep she’d divorced?
He plucked his sunglasses from the visor and slipped them on, his mind rolling back to that night in the tall grass—just as it had so many times after he’d returned home from his discouraging visit here. It all came back—all the heat, all the desperation, and all the guilt. Because it had been clear that any pleasure she’d derived from their lovemaking had disappeared when they were both able to breathe normally again and she’d faced what she’d done.
Jake sighed. He’d known she wasn’t thinking straight that night; he shouldn’t have let it go that far. But chemistry was chemistry, and he’d put nobility on the back burner and taken the comfort he’d needed, too.
Punching a few buttons, he found an upbeat country song on the radio and acknowledged the feeling in his gut that said the chemistry was still there. But he wouldn’t bother her again. Even if she weren’t already attached, she wasn’t the kind of woman he looked for these days. She was too sweet, too wholesome—and despite the fevered way they’d come together—too principled. All he wanted from a woman these days was an occasional date and some no-strings sex. He’d given up the two-point-five kids and picket-fence myth. Dear, deceitful little Heather had set him straight on that score.
Although, if he had to be honest, his trust in women had been shaken a lot earlier than that. A boy couldn’t grow up knowing he was an afterthought in his own mother’s life without having a few hang-ups.
A horn blast jarred him, and Jake spiked the brake as a white truck bearing Idaho plates shot across the road in front of him. Quickly, he looked across the intersection to check for a stop sign, then swore when he spotted it—flattened at the side of the road. Obviously, the out-of-state driver hadn’t seen it. Jake nearly gave chase, then decided against it. There was no point wasting time on an arrest that wouldn’t hold up. The best he could do now was see that the sign was fixed before someone got hurt.
The midmorning sun glinted off the sheriff department’s white Jeep as Jake pulled his tan Mountaineer in beside it. He got out and slammed the door. As he walked past the wide front window with its fancy gold seal, he waved at Maggie Dalton, who was just hanging up the phone.
“Hi, again,” he said, coming inside.
“Hi.” She finished scribbling a note, added it to a pile and sent him a friendly smile. “Didn’t expect you back so soon.”
“I’m fast. Anybody report a downed stop sign at the corner of Mountain and Prairie?”
“Yep. County maintenance is on it.”
“Good.”
The reception area was fairly large, with the dispatcher’s desk in the middle of the room, and flanked on both sides by a low-railing fence with a swinging gate. To the right stood a row of straight-back chairs and the door to the lockup; to the left, Jake’s private office. Above the waist-high wood paneling, the walls were pale municipal green and needed a fresh coat of