The Bachelor's Baby(32)

He hesitated and she could have sworn she heard his thought: Open to both. But he only said, “Come for a drive?”

With a jerky nod, she nervously agreed, telling herself it was for the baby’s sake and had nothing to do with her own inner yearnings. “Can you wait while I dry my hair?”

Fifteen minutes later, they were on the road and she felt ridiculously optimistic. Like a sixteen-year-old on her first ride in a car with a boy. It was the glorious weather, she reasoned. No one could be gloomy on a day like today, when last night’s snow was being swept away by a mild wind and the blue of the sky was so sharp it hurt your eyeballs. The warmth of the sunlight through the window made her tingle, promising spring.

“How are you, Meg?” he asked, glancing across as he drove. “That thing you said yesterday about morning sickness. I looked it up last night and it sounds like it can be pretty bad.”

“Ever been hung over?” she said dryly.

“Today,” he said with a significant look, qualifying with a tilt of his head, “Just a little. I was too tired to get roaring drunk last night, but I felt like I needed a few strong ones after everything that happened yesterday.”

That made her smirk. “Well, I don’t have the luxury of that coping strategy and I’ll still probably lose whatever you buy me at the diner. I wouldn’t bother eating at all, but I’m starving all the time and I’m given to understand at least some of it makes it to the baby, so….”

“Baby,” he said under his breath. “It seems surreal.” His profile twinged, unreadable. “Anything else I should know?”

She debated, then figured she might as well be honest. “I’m a total crybaby. I was genuinely upset yesterday, but the least little thing makes me tear up. I did two broadcasts before I left and practically sobbed my way through both of them. Look.” She pointed at her wet eyes, growing teary as she remembered the emotional toll the stories had taken on her. To distract herself, she admitted, “And I’m coming to town to look for a bra. All of mine are too tight.”

He cut another quick glance toward her, this one trying to penetrate the puffy down of her vest. “Nice,” he mused, as though manifesting a picture in his mind.

She rolled her eyes, struck with a wave of humor and impatience, pride and something weirdly poignant because it was something a boyfriend would say. Or a husband. And even though her breasts were so tender she could barely stand the pressure of a T-shirt, she had a sudden impulse to bare herself and show him. Bask in his admiration.

The thought of which kind of turned her on, so she desperately tried to think of anything except the way he’d licked and sucked her nipples that night.

Into the silence, he abruptly hit the button on his door and cracked his window, making cool wind whistle into the cab. He threw his hat into the back seat and plucked the buttons on his coat, jerking it open a few inches.

She turned goggled, unseeing eyes to the smear of white and blue out the side of her window, surreptitiously lowering the zip on her vest to get a bit of that cooler air down her own throat.

“Mainstreet Diner all right?” he asked as they approached town.

“If we can get in, sure,” she said, clearing her throat. “We’re right on time for the breakfast rush,” she warned, unsurprised by the lack of parking when they got close enough to start looking.

“Mind walking?” he asked when they found a spot on the next block.

“Not at all.” The snow was melting and dripping off the awnings, reflecting like diamonds, while the breeze carried the sweet scent of a turning season.

“I was going to come and open your door,” he said with a disgruntled frown when he met her on the sidewalk.

That made her smile in bemusement. “You’re quite a gentleman, aren’t you?”

He shrugged. “Might not be great at relationships, but I’m a helluva date.”

“Mmm. Modest, too.”

He winked and set a light hand under her elbow, making her tense in reaction, belly flooding with heat. What was it about this man?

“There might be slippery patches,” he said as though reading her tension. “I don’t want you to fall.”

Concern for the baby or her, she wondered? She decided not to ask, glancing instead back toward the boutique, but if they carried bras, they’d be the lacy, get-your-motor-running kind. She’d probably have to go into Bozeman for a grow-with-you maternity bra.

Maternity wear, she thought with a muted sigh at how thoroughly her life was changing.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I thought I knew what my life would look like a year from now, but it turns out I didn’t. I still don’t.”