Fifty Ways to Say I’m Pregnant Page 5

  She reached across the small distance between them and laid her soft hand on his arm. A warm glow seemed to radiate from the place where she touched him. The wind whispered through the trees and the cottonwood fluff blew around in the air and the warm sun glinted off the rushing stream.

  Eventually, she let go, but it seemed to Beau that he could still feel the warm clasp of her hand. With a small, contented sigh, she stretched out on the grass and laced her fingers behind her head. She stared up at the fluttering leaves of the cottonwood that sheltered them—and beyond, to the wide, blue sky overhead.

  Beau set his hat aside and stretched out beside her. For a while, they just lay there, watching the leaves above move in the wind, listening to the happy, bubbly sound of the stream at their feet and the occasional soft coo of a mourning dove somewhere nearby.

  “Beau?” He turned from the view of the trees and the sky to meet her waiting eyes. She looked thoughtful and maybe a little bit anxious. “There’s been something I’ve been wishing I could ask you for a few years now.”

  He had a pretty good idea where she was headed. “So ask.”

  He watched her smooth throat move as she swallowed. “That day Tess caught us in the barn together, those horrible things you said to me out in the yard…”

  “Yeah?”

  “Did you mean them?”

  Beau lay still, one hand on his stomach, the other cradling his head. She shifted, turning toward him on her side, propping her head on her hand. All that black hair spilled over her palm and fell along her arm to kiss the green, green grass.

  “Well…” Her mouth trembled a little. “Did you?”

  “No,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean those things I said. Those things were lies, pure and simple.” He felt the pained smile as it twisted his mouth. “And I put a lot of effort into being a convincing enough rat-bastard that you would think they were true.”

  She let out a long sigh, as if she’d been holding her breath and just remembered to let it out. “I knew it. But I did want to hear you say it—just like I want to hear you tell me why you said those things…”

  “Hell,” he replied, as if that was any kind of answer. All these years he’d nursed a hopeless yearning that someday they’d talk about this. Someday when she was a grown woman and he’d come through the bad things he’d done, come through to make himself another, better kind of life. And today, here they were, and it was happening just the way he’d always dreamed it might….

  One hell of a day, this one. The day Daniel said he considered Beau as his son. The day Starr showed up with offerings of food from her family—and now seemed reluctant to leave.

  He said, “I only knew then that I was headed for a bad place and I had to make sure you didn’t try to follow me there.”

  “Oh,” she said so softly, the way a woman might exclaim upon unwrapping some beautiful and priceless gift. And then she called it exactly that—a gift. “Life is so strange, isn’t it?” she whispered, a certain reverence in her low voice. “I mean, what you did was so brave, really. It turned out to be like a…gift. It hurt so damn much when you did it, but my life turned out different—so much better than the direction I was headed in then, because you said those awful things to me, because they made me think, and think hard, about my life. Made me reach out to my family. Made me see I had to make some changes, or I could end up…” She didn’t seem to know how to finish.

  So he did it for her. “…following the wrong guy down the road to nowhere and never finding your way back?”

  Tears welled in her eyes, making them shine all the brighter. She didn’t let him see them fall, but sat up, quickly, turning away. Touched in the deepest part of himself, he left her alone until she could get it together.

  Finally, she turned to him again, her eyes still suspiciously shiny-looking, but her soft cheeks dry. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess that’s it. But look.” She raised her hands, palms up, as if to include everything—the rushing water, the summer sky, the trees whispering in the warm wind—even the faint cooing of that lone mourning dove. “I didn’t go down that road. And you…well, Beau. You have done it. You’ve found your way back.”

  Chapter Three

  For a while, they just sat there, side by side, staring off toward the stream and the open pasture that rolled away from them beyond the trees on the other side. Eventually, she picked up her tea, drained the last of it and tossed the remaining melted slivers of ice out into the water.

  He put on his hat and got up, holding down a hand. She took it, tugging on it lightly as she rose. He felt a much stronger tug, down inside him—an ache for what might have been, if only he were someone that he would never be. Once she was on her feet, he made himself let go.

  They hesitated, facing each other there on the bank, both knowing they should turn for the house, but neither making a move.

  “Back then, all those years ago,” she said softly, “I’d never felt…oh, I don’t know. Accepted, I guess. I’d never felt accepted, or at home, with anyone. Not until I met you. For that short time we had, I felt I could tell you anything and you would understand. That you wouldn’t judge me, that you knew who I really was, deep down. And that you liked that person.”

  “I did like that person.” The words came out before he even realized he would say them. “I liked that person a whole hell of a lot. I still do.”

  Her smile was so shy. It trembled at the edges. “I’m glad to hear that. And you know, today, after so much time has gone by…I feel just the same. That I could sit right back down in the grass again with you and we could talk forever. That I could tell you everything that’s in my most secret heart and know I was telling it all to someone I can trust. I don’t think I want to give that up right now, Beau. Not when I’ve just found it again.” She bit her still-quivering lip to make it be still. “I guess what I’m getting at is…do you think that we might…?” Her words trailed off, but he knew where she was headed.

  And it was impossible. “Starr—”

  “Oh, wait,” she cried. “Can’t I finish?”

  He stuck his hands in his pockets to keep them from doing something they shouldn’t. “Go ahead.”

  “Well, it’s just…” She looked down into her empty glass, then up at him again. “I do know we’re going in different directions now. And I haven’t forgotten the things you said once. That all you wanted in life was a real home and a chance to work hard every day building something that was your own. Against all the odds, you’ve got what you wanted. And I’m off to New York in the fall, to start a new job. In a few months, I’m gone. Off to live the life I’ve been studying and planning for. I’m not saying either of us should change, or start thinking about giving up the lives we’ve worked hard to make. I’m not really talking about anything permanent. I’m just saying that, well, there’s a whole summer stretching out ahead of us. Why couldn’t we spend a little time together, now and then, before I go?”

  “Be…friends, you mean?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Friends. That’s what I mean.”

  How could she ask for that? She had to know it would never work. He couldn’t even stand next to her on Daniel’s porch without wondering if she still had that navel ring, without wanting to grab her and kiss her—and to maybe get his chance to see that secret tattoo.

  But she was so sweetly, adorably hopeful, so damned impossibly beautiful as she stood there in front of him, asking him why they couldn’t just be summertime friends. He didn’t have the heart—let alone the will—to say no.

  And why the hell should he say no, a darker voice down inside him was whispering? Why shouldn’t he see her if she wanted to see him? He was a straight-ahead guy now, an upstanding citizen who put in an honest day’s work for his pay.

  He might not be the right guy for her in the long run, but she wasn’t sixteen anymore. She was all grown up, old enough to make a woman’s decisions. Who said he had to deny himself her company, if she wanted to share it with him?

 
Because it’ll break your damn heart to see her go, fool, whispered another voice, a wiser one, in the back of his mind. It’ll break your damn heart—and just possibly hers, as well.

  He found he was having a hell of a time trying to listen to that wiser voice. How could he do it? How could he say no when she stood right there, close enough to touch, gleaming black hair stirring in the wind, asking him so sweetly and sincerely to be allowed to see him now and then?

  “Tell you what.”

  She laughed. “You look so serious.”

  This is serious, damn it, he thought. What’ll we get but heartbreak, if we start this thing between us all over again? He said, “Think it over.”

  Those silky brows drew together. “But it’s not a big deal. It’s only—”

  He shook his head to silence her. It was a big deal, whether she was willing to admit it or not. “Think it over. Be real sure you want to get something started with me again—even just for the summer.”

  “But Beau, I already told you. I do want to see you again. Now, whether I’d call that ‘getting something started—”’

  “Call it whatever you damn well please.” She flinched and he realized he’d spoken too harshly. He gentled his tone. “I just want you to give it some thought before we start up with anything.”

  “But…” She looked enchantingly bewildered. “Do you want to spend more time with me?”

  Do bears like honey? He confessed, “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that. I’d like it a lot.”

  “Well, then…” A few strands of hair had got caught across her mouth. He kept his hands shoved hard in his pockets to keep from reaching out and smoothing those strands back over her soft cheek, behind the graceful curve of her ear. After a few seconds that seemed like a year, she brushed them away herself.

  “Think about it,” he said, his heart pounding deep and hard, every beat seeming to call out her name. “Give it week. By next Friday, if you still think you want to go out with me, you give me a call.”

  Those lashes swept down. “I know my own mind, Beau.”

  “We’ll see.”

  She looked straight at him then, violet eyes flashing with irritation. “I’m not asking for a lifetime. Just the summer. Just a chance to be together, now and then, for a little while…”

  “And all I’m asking is that you give it some thought first.”

  Her eyes went wide and she fell back a step. “Do you remember? You said almost the exact same words before you kissed me the first time?”

  He did remember. They were in the tack room, off the barn at the Rising Sun. They’d been talking—about the wild stuff she’d done down in San Diego, about how he’d never been much farther than Cheyenne himself, except for that one trip to Arkansas with his mom all those years and years ago. He was leaning on a saddle horn. She slid right up close to him and lifted her mouth.

  “Give it some thought,” he’d said. “Before you go offering up those sweet lips of yours…”

  Yeah, he remembered. He remembered all of it—every magical, forbidden moment with her.

  He said it once more. “Give it some thought.”

  She turned her head away from him then, abruptly, black hair flying out. It took her a moment before she faced him again. “You are impossible sometimes, you know that? I have thought about it. I’ve thought about it all I need to. By next Friday, I’ll feel just the same.”

  “Then next Friday, you’ll be giving me a call.” A wry smile pulled at the edges of his mouth. “And could we maybe not argue about this anymore?”

  She folded her arms tight under those tempting full breasts of hers. “You’re like an old mule sometimes, you know that?”

  “All your flattering words will get you exactly nowhere with me.”

  She laughed, then. He drank in the sound. “Oh, all right. Have it your way.” She sent him a sideways look. “And expect a call from me. Friday.”

  “I’ll be right here. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

  Starr knew what she wanted—one sweet final summer at home that would include Beau—and what she wanted was not going to change. She knew very well that Beau wanted the same thing. She’d seen it in those sky-blue eyes of his. He’d even said so when she asked him.

  So what was his problem? Why was he putting her off? The summer wasn’t going to last forever, after all. It was already almost the middle of July. Why waste a whole week when she’d told him there was no reason to?

  She didn’t have to think all that hard to come up with the answer: Because he wanted her to be sure. Because he cared for her. Because he’d always cared.

  She drove home over the rutted dirt roads, alternately grinning and scowling, rehearsing the clever, teasing things she’d say to him when the long week ahead finally ended and she had his permission to give him a call.

  The weekend seemed to crawl by. It took forever and a year to get from Saturday to Sunday. Sunday night lasted a lifetime and a half.

  Then came Monday. She got up and ate her breakfast, already wishing the day would hurry up and end.

  She spent the morning at the paper, and headed home at lunch. Late Monday afternoon, she was up in her room finishing up the article about the county fair. She clicked on Copy, shoving back her chair to get up and stretch—and just happening to glance out the window at the exact moment the green pickup drove in.

  It rolled on past the barn and pulled to a stop by one of the sheds.

  Starr shot out the bedroom door and raced down the stairs so fast, she almost plowed into Edna in the central hall.

  Edna let out a shriek and staggered back.

  Starr caught her by her dainty little shoulders. “Oops. Sorry…” She guided the older woman to the side and flew on by.

  “What is the all-fired hurry?” Edna grumbled from behind her.

  Starr tore into the kitchen, grabbed a glass from the cupboard, stuck it under the ice dispenser in the door of the fridge and tapped a toe in impatience as the cubes tumbled out much too slowly for her liking. When the ice was finally in there, she slammed the glass on the counter, threw open the fridge door and grabbed the big jar of cold tea that Tess always kept full during the warm months. Somehow, she managed to slosh it into the glass without spilling a drop.

  “Sugar?” she muttered under her breath. Did he like sugar? It bothered her no end that she didn’t even know.

  Well, no time for that now. He’d too likely be gone if she didn’t get out there.

  Abandoning the open jar of tea on the counter, she spun for the back door, vaguely aware that Tess was sitting at the table with Ethan while he ate a snack and Edna had appeared in the doorway to the hall. They all three stared at her as if she’d lost her mind.

  “Tea.” She beamed at the three gaping faces and held the glass high. “For Beau…” Whirling, she raced out through the combination laundry and mud-room, not caring in the least that she let the screen slam behind her.

  The pickup was still there and Beau was unloading stuff from the bed. She slowed to a more dignified stroll until she reached him, at which point he granted her a quick tip of his hat. After that, she stood back, waiting, until he’d finished what he’d come to do. Once the last piece of equipment was stowed in the shed, he came striding on over to her, faded shirt dark with sweat in a V down his chest and beneath his strong arms, hat and boots dusty.

  Something tightened down inside her, just to look at him. And her breath, for a second or two, kind of stalled out in her throat. She put on her most unconcerned expression. “Thought you might like a cool glass of tea after all the heavy lifting.”

  He looked her up and down. She wore old jeans, ragged running shoes and a baggy C.U. T-shirt, but the way his gaze went over her made her feel like the most gorgeous and glamorous thing around. “I do appreciate a nice, cold drink.”

  “I realized I have no idea if you take sugar or not?”

  “With or without, it’s fine with me. I’m easy to please.”

  “Well. Fine, then.” She
handed it over.

  He tipped his head back and drank it down in one long swallow. “Thank you.” His fingers brushed hers as he handed back the glass. A shiver of pleasure went through her, just from that slight, too-brief touch. “Gotta get a move on,” he said. “Tell your dad I was here, that I put everything in the shed?”

  “Be happy to.”

  He hitched up the tailgate and turned for the driver’s door. She trailed along after, longing to ask him to stick around for a while, but mindful of the agreement she’d reluctantly struck with him.

  Not until Friday…

  He climbed in and pulled the door shut, then leaned out the window. “See you later.” His eyes said a lot more than his mouth did. He scanned her face as if he couldn’t get enough of looking at her.

  “Friday,” she told him firmly, just so he’d know she had not changed her mind. “You’ll be seeing me Friday.”

  For that, she got one of those slow smiles of his. “Number’s in the book.”

  “I know. I checked—and how’s Mr. Hart doing?”

  “Ornerier every day.” He turned on the engine, gunned it just a little, and rolled on away from her, resting his elbow on the window frame, waving as he went.

  “Friday,” she promised under her breath, waving back, as the pickup disappeared around the front of the house. She looked into the drained glass of ice cubes. “Or maybe, Beau Tisdale, sooner than that…”

  In the kitchen, Tess and Ethan were still at the table. Edna stood at the counter, chopping onions with a big knife and sniffing delicately to hold back the tears. Some thoughtful person had already recapped the tea and put it away. Starr beamed them all a huge, happy smile. She tossed the ice cubes in the sink and stuck the glass in the dishwasher. Then she marched into the pantry, emerging a few moments later with twin canisters—one containing superfine flour, the other sugar—and a box of baking chocolate squares.

  She got the big mixing bowl from a low cabinet, brought down the stained red-and-white covered Better Homes and Gardens cookbook and set it all on a section of counter out of Edna’s way.