He’d always thought Sharon was in your face when it came to impressing her will on people, and folks generally didn’t mind because Sharon was always right. But Mrs. Scott seemed to be a special breed of bossy. All he could do was laugh.
“What’s funny?” Toby asked from the sofa.
“Your babushka. Your grandmother. She’s very…interesting.”
“That’s what granddad calls her, too.”
Well, at least she hadn’t yelled. As crazy as the conversation had been, she didn’t have a single ill word to say to him. She’d only been concerned about the product of their future. But what she didn’t know yet was that he and Meg weren’t certain to have a future.
Kids, though…he’d never given having any much thought. He’d always been the kind of guy who didn’t think too far ahead when it came to his personal life. His longest relationship to date had been a few months, right before he left Russia for college. Nothing had clicked in all that time, and maybe he didn’t know how to go about putting the pieces together. He’d wanted a girlfriend, but the kind of women he pursued didn’t want that from him. Now he knew he’d been pursing the wrong kind of woman. In all that time, he was looking for cute and sweet, when his luck might have been a bit better if he’d been courageous enough to seek out a woman who’d make him work.
And working he was.
Meg returned, shoving her phone into her shorts’ pocket, and shaking her head as she passed him. “Sorry, Seth. She’s got sort of a one-track mind.”
“Why did she ask me about…” He made that chopping motion.
She wiped her hands up and down her shorts legs as if she were wiping sweat from her palms. She whispered, “Spike,” and bobbed her head in Toby’s general direction.
When she made a come-here gesture, he leaned down for her to press soft, warm lips against his ear.
He ached to draw her in even closer, to nestle the side of her face against his chest, but somehow he resisted her pull. He’d have to train himself to behave, or else when they finally shook the dust out of everything and walked away—back to their separate lives—he’d end up leaving a bit of his heart with her.
That wouldn’t do. At age thirty-five, he couldn’t afford to fall hard, because no matter how well he’d exercised his ability to rebound from disappointment, eventually there’d be a point when he’d never recuperate. He’d never want to try again. He’d die lonely and single. Childless.
He was an idiot for even coming over. True, he did have a meeting in Research Triangle Park in the morning, but he could have bunked with Curt and accepted Erica’s hospitality like he always did. He could have bothered Grant for his guest bed, or air mattress, depending on what they’d unpacked. In a pinch, he could’ve called Sharon and she and Ashley would’ve cheerfully put him up.
No, his self-torturing instinct had been to put himself in Meg’s space, and thank God that woman in the garage had let him into the building.
She whispered, “Spike told my mother after Toby was born that he’d gone and had a vasectomy. I don’t know if it’s true, and I always used backup birth control. But, I can’t imagine any ethical physician in the US doing the procedure without the patient’s spouse signing off on it.”
He turned her, slightly, to access her ear, unable to stop himself from grazing his lips along her earlobe.
Her hand fisted his shirt, holding him still, but he didn’t want to push his luck. He whispered, “He could have had it done outside of the country, but that’s a lot of trouble to go to while on tour.”
With a small nod and a murmured, “Mm-hmm,” she pulled away, and turned the dial on the slow cooker to high.
He wondered what she’d do if he pushed her just a little. Stroked her cheek or tipped up her chin. Would anger flash through those dark eyes of hers, or would she let him touch her more?
“My parents will….” She let her words trail off, and her face lined with worry as she fidgeted with the corner of a dish towel. “They’re driving down to meet you. Or will as soon as my mother fills my father in on the news. I imagine their arrival will come during the weekend.”
“Just tell me where you want me to be, and I’ll be there,” he said, and she rolled her gaze up to meet his.
“Why are you always so accommodating?” she asked.
“Is that so suspicious?”
“Given what I’m used to, I have good reason to be wary.”
“You should have better than you’re used to then.”
Her cheeks reddened again, but she shook her head and turned her back to him to tidy up the counter. “Simple as that, huh?” Her voice had taken on a bitter tone.