The Best Man's Baby(6)

Claire clutched her precious piece of evidence in her right hand, holding it like a knight would hold a sword, ready to pierce his opponent through the heart.

Jake opened his perfectly chiseled mouth. “Claire.”

“Welcome home, daddy.” She stabbed the positive pregnancy indicator stick through his hamburger with enough force that it could have killed the cow had it still been alive.

She didn’t wait, didn’t stop for a reaction. She just kept on walking.

As she burst through the iron gate leading to the street, her legs trembled while adrenaline propelled her forward. Her shins ached, her head throbbed, and her throat burned with unshed tears. She heard her name echo, painfully loud in the quiet street, but there was no way in hell she was going back there. She heard loud male voices. She heard Holly yelling out after her. She heard Octopus Barbie screaming something about the fact that the indicator must have pee on it. She cringed at Holly’s voice, yelling at Jake. She heard Quinn’s loud cursing.

But she didn’t hear anything from Jake.

And then a loud crash ripped through the air.

Jake’s beer. That almost brought a smile to her lips. Almost. But the tears finally won out over the smile as she furiously pounded the lock release button on her car key. She whipped the door open, threw her purse inside, and scrambled to get in before she lost all control.

Just a few more seconds, just hold it in for a few more seconds.

Blindly, she turned the ignition and pulled away from the curb, letting the sobs loose, and they pummeled through the open gates, taking with them no prisoners. Claire tried to stay focused on the road as tears washed over her face.

She wept at her own stupidity in thinking Jake had feelings for her, and she wept for the bitter finale to her fantasies of Jake Manning.





Chapter Two

The deep rumble of a motorcycle approaching and stopping made Claire freeze for a moment, her pruning shears about to snap the head off a plump pink peony. She looked down at her watch. It had taken Jake exactly one hour to make the ten-minute drive from Quinn and Holly’s house to hers. So what had he been doing for those last fifty minutes? Trying to explain to Amanda that he and the boring florist had a one-night stand? And that Claire was a complete idiot?

After she’d gotten home and changed into jeans and a T-shirt, she had wandered out to the gardens in her backyard. The plan that had seemed genius in Holly’s kitchen now felt rather drama-queen-ish for her. And now, thanks to her impulsive little performance at the barbecue, there was the added complication of her mother. Because now the news was out. It was just a matter of time before the small-town gossip circle would make its way to Mrs. Holbrook. Her insides churned at the idea of telling her mother. And her heart broke a little more at the thought of having to tell her father over the phone, because she knew her mother would tell him if she didn’t. He didn’t need to be distracted from his missionary work in Africa with news like this. She’d hoped she could wait until her father returned and then break the news, but her impulsiveness destroyed that idea.

She didn’t bother standing up when she heard the wooden gate swing open. Her chest constricted painfully, as though her mind hadn’t made it clear to her heart that they were done idol-worshiping Jake Manning.

“Hi.”

She paused, still crouched over her peonies, as a shiver ran up her spine when his deep voice called her, instantly evoking the memory of him whispering her name against her cheek that night in the hotel. But tonight it wasn’t that same voice. Claire took a deep breath before slowly rising to face the father of her baby.

Jake Manning filled up her yard like a giant in a meadow. His masculinity was a blasphemous slap in the face to the utter femininity of the budding pink peonies and fragrant lilacs.

“Claire.”

She forced herself to look him in the eye as he approached, tried to ignore how good he looked in his dark jeans, faded along the thighs, highlighting how fit he was. If she didn’t know better she’d think the man had jeans custom-tailored to fit his body.

She folded her arms across her chest. “Hi.” She was glad she had changed out of her sundress. This was who she really was. She wasn’t the high-maintenance, look-at-me type of girl. And she wasn’t going to pretend to be. She was done trying to impress him.

Jake ran a hand through his hair roughly. Claire fought the jolt that snuck through her as she remembered running her fingers through his thick hair. She looked away and crossed her arms. He should not look that good with five o’clock shadow, either.

“That’s one hell of a way to tell a guy he’s going to be a father. Couldn’t you have just called me? Or pulled me aside?”