The Best Man's Baby(21)

He fought his own surge of unexpected emotion at the man’s praise. In one sentence, he’d given Jake more than his father ever had. Jake grasped his wrinkled hand, not surprised that William’s handshake was still powerful.

“That means a lot to me, especially coming from someone with your background. You’re as good as it gets as far as builders go.”

“Well, it’s the truth,” William said with a grin and a wink as he fired up a trademark cigar. He offered one to Jake, but he declined with a shake of his head. Jake pushed aside the guilt he felt at the prospect of completing this transaction. He knew he was going to have a hell of a lot of explaining to do. And without ever revealing the truth, it was going to be hard to make anyone, especially Quinn or Claire, understand. There was no way he was going to come across as anything but a giant jerk. But his gut told him this was right. This was the only way to make things right for Claire, for Quinn, for his future child. He just had to keep focused on that.

“So, is part of the reason you’re rushing this through because you’re about to become a dad?” William asked with a cough.

Jake ran his hands over his face and stifled the curse on the edge of his lips. He prayed William hadn’t heard exactly how it happened. That would be damn embarrassing.

“I heard Claire Holbrook slapped you and poked your burger with one of those pregnancy sticks,” William said with a hearty laugh as clouds of cigar smoke billowed around him.

Jake silently cursed every gossip in Red River. He gave a terse nod, hoping his less-than-enthusiastic answer would at least temper William’s laughter. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Well, congratulations are in order, my boy. You couldn’t have found a better woman or mother for your child,” he said.

The only problem is she wants nothing to do with me. But Jake knew he was right. He had known it as soon as the reality of it all set in. He didn’t deserve Claire, but in a way he felt as though he’d been given a second chance. Maybe it was poetic justice, all things considered.

“Thanks, I know,” he said, finally rising. “And I hear you’ve got your eye on one of Red River’s finest.” He smiled hard as the old man actually looked as though he was blushing.

“Well, Eunice is a good woman. I’ve been alone a long time, and as much as I got used to having things my own way, I’ll be the first to admit I missed a woman’s company. Being old and alone isn’t good,” William said, bracing his large hands on the desk and then standing. He must have been a strong, intimidating man in his younger days, Jake thought, as William straightened himself to a still-impressive height.

“You both deserve to be happy,” Jake said, starting for the door. “I guess I don’t need to mention I don’t want anyone to know about this deal until I’m ready, okay?”

“I’ve made it a policy to never mix business and pleasure. Don’t you worry. If you don’t mind my asking, why aren’t you doing this deal with your brother?”

Jake rubbed his hand over his mouth. “I needed something for myself. Quinn is a good guy, but I want my name on the front of this building.”

William frowned. “You already have the Manning name on your business.”

But he wasn’t really a Manning. He was just the filthy bastard son that his parents had been forced to raise. “It’s really Quinn’s business,” Jake said, tearing his gaze away from William’s. Claire’s father was the only person who knew the truth about him. He wasn’t about to confide in him.

“All right then, Jake, you give me a call when we’re ready for final signatures,” the old man said with a wave of his hand.

Jake gave him a nod and then left the wood-paneled office. He felt good about what he was doing. He would just have to make Quinn understand somehow. He was going to be able to give Claire the life she deserved. Maybe one day she would feel proud to be married to him. Maybe their child would be proud of him. Maybe he or she would look up to him.

Maybe Jake Manning could be the man he thought he could be before his father started telling him he was nothing.



Large, fat raindrops splattered across Jake’s iPhone screen. He sat on top of his Harley, parked beside Claire’s Volvo, on her driveway, blankly staring at the text she must have sent him while he was at William Walters’s house:

“Sorry Jake, too tired for dinner tonight. Maybe some other time. Claire.”

She was canceling on him? Some other time? When? After the baby was born? He scowled and wiped the accumulating water drops off his screen. He slipped his phone into his jacket pocket and walked toward her front door. She was back to giving him the cold shoulder.