The Bachelor's Baby (Bachelor Auction Book 3)(28)
That and Linc’s genuine appreciation for the help with the roof had dissipated the worst of the undercurrents. Linc hadn’t lingered, saying he still had a lot to do at home. He’d promised to call her, his expression steadfast and significant as he left, as if silently reminding her to think about it.
Meg had gone to bed with fantasies of romance and lovemaking and heartfelt declarations sneaking stealthily into her dreams. So silly. She had to be more grounded and realistic about this, not mentally practicing her Mrs. Lincoln Brady signature.
“Hey.” The corner of his mouth pulled into a half-smile as she opened the door, like he was caught off guard, but was pleased by the sight of her. His grin made her heart skip. “I found a tool that wasn’t mine,” he said, thumbing to where he’d spoken to Blake near the barn. “I brought it back and now I’m heading into town for some breakfast. Care to join me?”
“I can make you breakfast—” she started to offer.
“I need groceries and have a few errands. And I have to be back by noon. Hay’s coming, but I owe you a date, so…”
For some reason, that made her snort. “Kind of late for that, isn’t it?”
“You’re the one who told me I should. Date,” he clarified. A glint in his eyes sent her right back to lying beside him in his bed, skin to skin, her guard all the way down because she’d already known how their relationship would end.
Except it hadn’t. Wouldn’t.
His remark yesterday about their already being in a relationship had yanked through her consciousness again and again last night, as she’d tried to envision what her new life in Marietta would look like. It would be indelibly connected to Linc’s. Forever. She swallowed.
“I haven’t made any decisions,” she said weakly, even though she suspected, deep down, that she wanted to try. Try to be friends. Try to be more.
Take a risk?
“I’m not here to pressure you,” he said, voice gentling. “But we should get to know each other better, don’t you think?”
“Beyond the biblical sense, you mean?” she asked, trying to sound rueful and flippant, but winding up blushing and feeling raw.
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.