“I didn’t need to take notes, because you, Mr. Ivy-League-brownnoser, were doing such a great job at it. And yes, I know exactly the protocol for well-baby visits. I had several months of pregnancy to memorize it.” She reached down to pull on a sock Owen had kicked off in his sleep. “Our deal was that I’d be the dutiful wife in public, but you aren’t dictating how I mother my son.”
Will’s jaw clenched at her slip, but Julianne reminded herself she was trying to get along. She flailed a hand in the air before he could correct her with some acerbic rebuttal.
“Pardon me. When our son”—she was gratified she didn’t choke on the word—“has an ear infection or a fever, I’m not hauling him off to a doctor forty minutes away when I can push him in a stroller to a well-qualified, well-liked physician two blocks down the street.”
Will hesitated, concern briefly flickering in his eyes, before opening his iPad once again. “I have an article on homeopathic remedies for ear infections.”
She slumped back against the seat. Undoubtedly he had entire research manuals on childcare loaded onto his tablet. He was apparently trying to debunk the dumb-jock myth single-handedly.
“You aren’t going to be able to develop a game plan for your son. He’s a living, breathing entity and things are going to happen, as we’ve already discovered. We’re going through with this ruse so you can bond with Owen. If you’re stressed about every little thing, he’ll sense it.”
His only reaction was a brief tightening of his fingers on his iPad. “I’m organized and efficient. Having a plan leads to less stress.”
Julianne rolled her eyes. “Right! You’re wound so tightly . . .”
Will tossed his iPad onto the chair beside him. Julianne’s breath caught in her throat as he stretched forward in his seat, his mouth hard. She should have known better than to bait him, but she was tired of his domineering manner and, well, she was just plain tired. And alone. And, truth be told, a little bit scared. In theory, marrying Will and returning to the small town where he grew up sounded doable. But now that she was actually living it, without the protective cocoon of her friends—Sebastian, Carly, and even Nicky—she wasn’t sure how she was going to pull it off. The ever-present sexual tension simmering between her and Will certainly didn’t help.
“If I’m stressed, Princess, it’s because I find myself having to totally restructure my off-season with a kid I didn’t know I had and a wife I don’t want.”
The force of his words sent her pressing further against the seat back. Of course he didn’t want her as his wife. It hurt to know that here was another man who didn’t envision her as a permanent part of his life. She turned her gaze to the window so as not to let him see how he could wound her. He already had enough power over her.
The pilot’s voice came over the intercom, shattering their stony silence.
“Hey, Will, we’re five minutes from wheels down, so make sure everything is secure back there, will ya?”
Will was quiet for a moment before switching on the intercom and answering. “Thanks, Ron.”
The ocean stretched out beneath the wing of the plane, and Julianne’s stomach did a flip-flop. She knew Chances Inlet was a small town located at the junction of the Cape Fear River and the Atlantic Ocean, but she hoped Will’s house was at least a few blocks inland. She didn’t do well near the sea, not since it had taken her mother from her.
“He’s still strapped in?” Will asked.
She forced herself not to roll her eyes again as she peeked over at Owen, still sleeping peacefully, a bubble of spit dancing on his pursed lips. Her heart melted as she looked at her beautiful son. Gratitude for Will’s contribution to Owen’s creation and saving his life dulled a little of the animosity she currently felt for him. She pulled the blanket up over the blue onesie decorated with Clifford the Big Red Dog, and suddenly a vision of a lace christening gown danced before her eyes. She blinked, but the gown remained fixed on her brain. Relief flickered through her limbs. Perhaps her gift wasn’t gone, after all. It was the first time in months she’d conjured up a design, and her fingers itched to sketch it. But just then, the plane’s wheels hit the runway with a bump and Owen woke up howling.
Will took care of unloading their luggage while Julianne fed and changed the baby. When she emerged on the tarmac twenty minutes later, it was to find Will leaning against a gleaming SUV, chatting up a leggy blonde dressed in jean shorts and a white tank top. She was perched barefoot on the hood like a life-sized hood ornament. The girl—she couldn’t have been more than twenty—looked like she was posing for a new-car ad, the wind blowing back her hair as her perfect pink mouth smiled seductively at Will.