In Shady Grove: About That Night Part 28

She rolled her eyes. "The baby doesn't care if two other babies have slept in the crib. We'll get new sheets and everything, but there's no point buying something when I have a perfectly good crib here that's ready to be rea.s.sembled in my apartment."

He studied her, his gaze wary. Questioning.

At her apartment last week, when they'd celebrated the baby, had their champagne and that amazing kiss and she'd told him about her mother, they'd grown closer. It had scared her to death. So she'd a.s.serted her independence. He had a right to be p.i.s.sed. She'd just hoped he'd be over it by now. With any other man, she wouldn't worry about it. The only reason she was making an effort with Clinton was because of the baby. Or so she told herself.

Lies. Horrible lies she forced herself to believe because the truth was so much scarier.

She'd done this to herself. Had brought on his cool att.i.tude by going to Kane. By not accepting Clinton's help. By not trusting him when he'd said she could count on him.

She'd succeeded in putting distance between them and now she wished she hadn't. And it wasn't guilt. It was something more. Something deeper she didn't want to explore.

"Well?" she asked, frustrated and getting mildly annoyed because she was making an effort and couldn't he see that? "Are you going to help me or not?"

He straightened. "Where is it?"

She almost sagged in relief. "In the bas.e.m.e.nt." Fay had an entire household worth of items down there from the house she used to share with her ex-husband.

Clinton nodded. "Let me change. I'll meet you in the foyer in five minutes."

Ivy left, quietly shutting the door behind her. In the hall, she closed her eyes and exhaled heavily.

And tried to tell herself she was making progress.

C.J. CARRIED THE last piece of the crib up the stairs and into Ivy's apartment. Was greeted by the cat with a meow. He went into Ivy's bedroom, where they'd put the rest, Ivy taking the small parts, him hauling the bigger ones.

He wiped sweat from his brow. Ivy had borrowed a pickup, so they'd been able to get it from the bed-and-breakfast to her apartment in one trip. One silent, tension-filled trip.

He wasn't going to worry about it. Wasn't going to be the one to break that tension. Not when he was still so angry with her.

"Here," she said, coming in behind him with a gla.s.s of lemonade. "You look thirsty."

"Thanks." He took it, drained the liquid in several long gulps. Handed her the gla.s.s.

She looked nervous, standing there in her shorts and another tank top, this one the color of spring gra.s.s that clung to her rounded stomach. "I didn't know you even owned regular jeans. I mean, the kind normal people buy."

He glanced at his faded jeans. He'd changed into them and a T-shirt, had put on his running shoes. "Several pairs," he said. She thought he was some sn.o.b who'd never done an honest day's worth of work.

He had. It may not have been physical work, but he knew how to put in a full day, how to work until the job was done.

"Fay found the directions," Ivy said, handing him a paper booklet opened to a diagram of parts and pieces.

He studied it. Nodded, though trepidation crept up his spine. "Got it. Tools?"

She gestured toward a pink toolbox in the corner. "Need help?"

"No, thanks," he told her coolly. "I can handle it on my own."

Her eyes narrowed, and she whirled on her heel and stormed off without a word.

A point for him, getting that last word in, but the victory felt hollow. He glanced at Jasper, who was looking at him reproachfully. "Yeah, yeah," C.J. muttered. "I know. Cheap shot. But she deserved it."

Telling himself that was the truth, he laid out the directions and went to work.

"HAVE YOU BEEN sleeping in here?" Ivy asked an hour later when she came back into the room. She frowned at him, looked at all the pieces and parts still scattered on the floor. "I thought you'd be done by now."

C.J. ground his back teeth together and slowly got to his feet. He had one side of the crib up, and it wasn't looking too steady. "You did this on purpose."

"What are you talking about?"

"This." He jabbed a finger at the half-a.s.sembled crib. "You asked me to put this d.a.m.ned thing together to prove I'm inept."

She laughed. "You're kidding." Her laughter died as she took in his expression. "You're not kidding. Look, this isn't some trick or plan to make you look bad. I needed help, so I asked you."

He wanted to fling the screwdriver he was holding. Instead he set it down, then threw up his hands. "It's impossible. There's no way these pieces make a crib."

He was embarra.s.sed and felt like an idiot for not being able to read directions, for not being able to do something as simple as a.s.semble a bed for his baby.

"Hey," she said, her tone soothing, her hand rubbing his arm. "It's okay. We'll figure it out together."

He exhaled heavily. Nodded. "Yeah. All right." He picked up the directions. He wanted, desperately, to talk her into letting him just buy a d.a.m.n crib, one already a.s.sembled that would be delivered straight to this room. But he couldn't. "Guess I fail again."

She looked at him sharply. "I told you, this isn't a game or a plan. It's not a test. Do you really think I care if you can a.s.semble furniture? Because I can do that myself. I didn't ask you here because I need your help. I asked you here because I want your help."

"There's a difference?"

She huffed out a breath. "Of course. I can do most things on my own. I've had to learn to be self-reliant, and I know that's hard on you, but I can't change who I am. Not completely. But I can try to accept help, to accept the fact that I'm not alone anymore."

"Because of the baby," he said.

"Because of the baby," she agreed. "But also because of you. I'm not going to quit working at O'Riley's, and I'm sorry if that bothers you, but I need the job there. I need to take care of myself. That doesn't mean I don't trust you or that I don't want you to be a part of the baby's life." She swallowed. "It doesn't mean I don't want you to be a part of my life," she said softly.

He was stunned. Could only stare at her as he tried to understand what she was telling him. She wanted him in her life. She wanted to trust him.

All of the tension, the tightening in his gut, which he hadn't been able to get rid of since leaving her in Kane's bar last week, dissipated.

She was going to give him a chance. She was going to give them a chance.

Grinning, he leaned forward. Pressed a warm kiss on her mouth, one she reciprocated with such sweetness he couldn't help wrapping an arm around her and kissing her again. And again. When he broke the kiss, she was smiling.

"I take it you're done being mad at me?" she asked.

"For now. But don't worry. I'm sure you'll do something else to p.i.s.s me off soon."

She laughed. "You know me so well."

He hoped that was true. Wanted it to be true. He handed her the screwdriver. "Now show me how to put together a crib."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

"ARE YOU MAD AT ME?"

Gracie glanced at Luke as they walked down the sidewalk. He'd invited her to get a coffee after work, and she hadn't been able to say no. Hadn't wanted to say no. They'd barely spoken since she'd left his sister's house last week, and though she knew it was stupid of her, she'd missed him.

"No," she said. And she wasn't mad. She was confused and so scared of falling for him when she had no idea what he thought of her. "I thought you were mad at me. You didn't call or text me."

"Yeah, I thought maybe you didn't want to talk to me because of...because of the kiss."

He blushed, and she wasn't sure what he was embarra.s.sed about.

"I do want to talk to you. I did," she said.

"Good. That's...good."

He held the door for her, and they went into the coffee shop. Though it was Sat.u.r.day afternoon, there were a few empty tables. Luke excused himself to use the restroom, and she sat near a large window overlooking Main Street. Gracie fiddled with the strap of her purse.

"Can I get you something?"

Gracie looked up and frowned to see Kennedy wearing a waitress uniform, a pad in one hand, pen in the other, her long, red hair pulled back. "Oh, Gracie. Hi," she said with all the warmth and enthusiasm of someone greeting her own executioner. "I didn't realize it was you."

"h.e.l.lo, Kennedy," Gracie said, refusing to be rude just because Kennedy didn't have any manners. "How are you?"

Kennedy rolled her eyes. "I'm just fine." She flicked her gaze over Gracie's hair. "I see your hair's gotten bigger this summer." She smiled, as if she was teasing, just being funny.

Gracie clenched her hands so she wouldn't touch her curls. "Yes." And Gracie saw that Kennedy was still a b.i.t.c.h. "I'll have an iced coffee, please. Do you have soy milk?"

She shrugged. "Anything else?"

"That's all for me, but the person I'm with will be right back."

Kennedy's eyes widened. "You're not alone? That's a surprise. Don't tell me-one of your little friends from the band is joining you?"

A few of her friends were in the marching band at school, but that was nothing to be ashamed of. Though some popular kids like Kennedy thought it was. "Actually-"

"I'm joining her," Luke said as he brushed past Kennedy and stood there as if he wasn't sure whether he wanted to sit or not.

Kennedy's fingers turned white on the pen. "Luke. You're with...her?"

He nodded. Took his seat. Kept his gaze on the table. "I'll have a blended caramel macchiato."

"I know what your favorite drink is," Kennedy said, looking like she was about to cry. "I know everything about you," she whispered.

His hands fisted on top of the table and he kept silent until Kennedy finally left.

"I'm sorry," he said tightly to Gracie. "I didn't know she was working here."

Gracie wasn't sure she believed him, but she hated to think that he'd lie to her, especially about something like that. "It's okay. Do you...do you want to go somewhere else?"

He scrubbed a hand through his hair. "No. I'm not going to let her get to me."

But tension emanated from him, and whatever he'd wanted to talk to Gracie about would obviously have to wait. They sat in silence for ten minutes until Kennedy came back with their drinks. She set them down with more force than necessary.

"Is there anything else I can get you?" she asked, though her lips barely moved.

"No," Luke said, still not looking at her, which Gracie could have told him only made it seem as if Kennedy was more important to him than he wanted to let on.

"Oh, Gracie," Kennedy said, "I heard they're having a bag sale at the thrift store this afternoon. I'm sure you'll want to stock up on clothes."

Gracie refused to let someone so mean and ugly on the inside get to her. She smiled. "Thank you, Kennedy. I would like that, and I'll be sure to stop by there."

She always found the best deals at thrift stores, though she preferred going to one in Pittsburgh where there was a bigger selection.

Kennedy made a huffing sound and left. "G.o.d," Luke murmured, "she is such a b.i.t.c.h."

"She's just insecure." Gracie often wondered why that gave someone a free pa.s.s to be mean, but Molly always had excuses for people's behavior, and it had rubbed off on Gracie. "Though I can't understand why other people don't see her cattiness is really a cry for help. I mean, she's nice enough to people's faces, but behind their backs, she's constantly bad-mouthing them. I think it's because she's pretty. No one wants to believe she's not as beautiful on the inside, too."

"No," Luke said, after a moment, as if he'd been considering Gracie's words and having some sort of inner debate. "She's just a b.i.t.c.h." He took a sip of his drink, then sat back in agitation. "Drew cornered me in the weight room yesterday, said Kennedy came on to him months ago."

Gracie winced in sympathy. "I'm sorry, Luke."

He shrugged. "Drew could have turned her down. Could have told me about it. Instead he hooked up with her. But I think he's regretting that now."

"Oh?" Gracie asked, wondering when she'd stopped being upset over Andrew being with Kennedy and worrying about Kennedy being free again. Free to get back with Luke. "What makes you say that?"

"He apologized to me. Said he made a mistake, picking a girl over a friend. I just...got the feeling he didn't know what he was getting into with her and that he might be looking for a way out."

She stirred her drink with her straw. "How does that make you feel?"

"Doesn't matter to me," Luke said with finality, but she wondered who he was trying to convince. Her. Or himself. "I just don't want him to think we're going to be friends again, you know?"

Nodding, Gracie took a sip of her drink, only to frown. Forced herself to swallow.

"What's wrong?" Luke asked.

"Nothing." But she pushed the drink aside.

"Gracie..."