Bachelor's Special (16 page)

Once inside the safety of her old jalopy, she brushed her wet fingers across her even wetter face and hair and sat staring out her windshield as the afternoon sky darkened further, making it appear as if night had already fallen. She squinted, unable to see the hood of her car through the downpour. She turned the key in the ignition once, pumped the gas, and tried again. Rain and her car mixed like cloudy and clear, but after two more tries she managed to turn the engine over.

She bit her lip, cranking up the heat as she slid into reverse. How come she’d let her stubbornness rule? She should’ve taken Chet up on his offer of using one of his cars. Her car stalled but started again. Jill sent up a silent plea to make it the short trip home.

Chapter Eighteen

“Piece of crap.” Jill thumped her palm against the steering wheel. Wind rocked her car and torrents of rain streaked down the windshield.

When the engine died, her power steering croaked, but she managed to pull the sputtering automobile off the road onto the gravel shoulder. An embankment plunged down into a thicket of trees on the passenger side.

Wind howled and a gust blasted the side of her vehicle. She held her breath as the swaying motion seemed to inch her closer to the ravine. Rusty metal creaked and groaned under the force, and she gripped the steering wheel.

She dug under her seat for the flashlight her mother always told her to carry. Her fingers met with air and she grumbled to herself because she’d used it a few months ago when the electricity went out at her apartment and had never put it back.

Darkness, hooded by an angry sky, surrounded her on the desolate country road, and Jill glanced over her shoulder in hopes of seeing headlights from another vehicle. A shiver raced over her skin, not from the cold but from her own morbid thoughts. Out here, she felt like the last person on earth.

Or an actress with top billing in a horror movie.
Jill Adgate, starring in One Stormy Night.
She shook off pictures of men with hook arms and serial killers wearing hockey masks. One too many scary movies over the years weren’t what she needed to focus on.

She tried again to start the car. Holding her breath, she turned the key, waiting to hear the engine of the temperamental rust heap fire. No such luck, it ground, then went dead. Swirls of steamy smoke shot up from under the hood.

Huddled against the well-worn leather seat, she rubbed her hands briskly along her upper arms, hoping for some measure of comfort. She pulled her phone from her purse, then scrolled down the contact list. One by one, each call went to voice mail. Even Mel.

“Come on.” She sat forward, turned the key in the ignition a second time, and pumped the gas. Nothing. Not even a spark. Her forehead bounced off the steering wheel several times as she groaned. This wasn’t in the plans for today.

Again, she went through her phone numbers, hoping she’d missed one. When she reached the end, she fisted her hand. She only had one option.

Chet.

She tossed her cell from palm to palm, stalling. Call Chet, sit here the rest of the night, or walk home in a raging storm. No choice thrilled her. Jill dreaded being stuck with him in a car, since she didn’t have the answer to the question on both their minds.

“Quit stalling.” And she meant it both ways. She needed to take that test and get it over with. But first she’d call Chet.

Less than forty minutes later, Jill sat tucked beneath a soft blanket, knees against chest, heels on the edge of her seat. Heat, cranked to high, blasted from the vents of Chet’s car. Pure, blissful heaven.

“It’s like a tropical vacation in here.” She sighed.

He chuckled and, through the dimness, she sensed him glance in her direction, though she stared straight ahead. Ever the backseat driver, she paid attention to the road in case she needed to point out any hazards that might jump into their path.

“Next time you need to go out, take one of my cars. I’d feel better knowing you were in a reliable vehicle.”

She couldn’t argue with that, though her pride wanted to. “I’ve been taking care of myself for so long—”

“—it’s just become habit.”

“Your psychic abilities freak me out sometimes.”

This time he laughed. The low rumble hummed along her skin. Even in semi-darkness, he oozed sex appeal. From her side vision, she peeked at him, not wanting to be too obvious.

My God, he was an impressive man. Dark and mysterious. Not like she never noticed, but in the confines of his car, with minimal light, it became more obvious. He focused straight ahead, face relaxed. Strong fingers moved with confidence along the steering wheel. In the soft red glow of the instrument panel, he looked like a superhero. One on a mission.

Rescuing a damsel in distress.

In this movie script, she’d play the damsel. Her knees weakened at the idea.

What would his superpower be? Maybe he’d fly, turn invisible, read minds, which he kind of already did. No. No, she knew exactly what his superpower would be.

She choked on her laugh, and he glanced at her and chuckled, too. Like he was in on her joke.

Yes, Chet Castle’s superpower would be the ability to disintegrate underwear from any female form.

“So, what was so important you had to go out on an afternoon like this? Didn’t we have enough at home to make a nice meal?”

She turned sideways in her seat to watch him. “We agreed on dinner tonight, and I wanted to make my special spaghetti and meatballs. The weather wasn’t nearly as bad when I left.”

“The news warned of it all day.”

“I know. Biggest storm of the season so far…blah, blah, blah.”

In the slivers of light that fought their way through the rain and the light coming from the dash, she could see his mouth turn up. Her body tingled. He embodied superhero strength, with a punch of power. She slipped her hand underneath the collar of her shirt to feel her bra strap. Yep, underwear still intact.

“You didn’t even bring a coat.” He shifted his attention from the road for a second and smiled at her.

“I didn’t think I’d be gone this long, or get this soaked in the process.”

He nodded, staying quiet, as if pondering the state of the world.

“I’ll have your car towed back to the house tomorrow. Unless you’d prefer the junkyard?”

“Hardy har har. You’re a funny man, Chet. To the house would be great. I know that finicky four-wheeled trollop. She’ll be running as good as new after a night of rest. But thanks.”

She leaned her head back, staring out the passenger window at the rain running down the glass. Her inner voice warned her not to get comfortable. When he cleared his throat, she braced herself for his next question, sure of what he’d ask.

“Did you buy a pregnancy test?”

His words broke apart the stillness in the car. She tightened her grip on her knees, jamming them against her chest. Her breath held until they topped his driveway, then circled around to the garage.

“It’s in one of the bags.” Her voice sounded raspier than normal, as if sand lined her throat.

He lowered his visor and the garage door opened. Once inside he shifted the car into park, the engine idled in perfect tune.

“Are you up to doing it now?”

She cleared her throat. “I actually read it’s more accurate if you take it first thing in the morning. I mean, you can take it anytime, but…”

“You’re stalling.” Humor flecked his words.

“Pretty obvious, huh?” Her whole body quaked.

“Let’s do it now, get it over with. So we both know.” His tired voice tugged at her heart until his words sank in.

“What, you want to come with me?” That would be about the last thing she could handle. Chet standing over her while she peed on a stick.

He turned toward her, smooth leather protested his weight. “I’m not thinking of standing over you.”

Psychic abilities be damned, this guy
had
bugged her brain.

“How about I wait in the next room? Or is that too close?”

His prying eyes searched her face. She couldn’t put it off any longer. “Okay.”

He touched her hand, which lay frozen on the top of her knee. “Don’t you want to know?”

“Of course, but if we wait till morning, it’ll be more accurate.”
One last stall tactic.

His hand stiffened against hers, then, just as quickly, he squeezed her fingers and pulled back. “It’s up to you.”

They sat in silence. To the point where the overhead light, which had come on instantly when the garage door opened, clicked off.

“You know what surprises me most about you, Jill?” He didn’t wait for an answer, which was good, because she couldn’t talk. “You’re a strong woman, most of the time confident, not afraid to take a chance—”

“Except when it comes to taking a pregnancy test.” She bit her lip. Her attempt at humor backfired. Neither of them laughed.

“I just find it funny that someone brought up in a home like you were, with parents who had a difficult marriage—”

“That’s sugarcoating it. Their marriage was a disaster.”

“I wasn’t going for blunt, but okay. Being raised in a home like that, how come you aren’t the one afraid of marriage and commitment? I’d think after all you saw and all you’ve been through…well, love, marriage, and kids would be the last thing you’d want.”

“I could shoot you the same question. Your home life was rainbows and puppy dogs, but you’ve got some major issues with the ‘L’ word, followed by the ‘M’ word.”

They sat in silence again for what seemed like several minutes.

“Exactly. You’d think our views would be switched.” His voice was slow and quiet, as if he’d just come to a realization.

“I know you had a rough time with Gina, but not all women think or act like she does. We’re not all out to take advantage of you. You can’t give up…” She couldn’t go on and lecture him about failed relationships. She might as well print up a sign and tell him—
tell him what, Jill?
No, she had to take this slow. Feed his learning to trust lessons one spoonful at a time.

“You know, even though my mom had a rotten marriage, she never stopped believing she could find love. I remember her crying at romantic movies, tearing up over a good love story she’d read. She turned to jelly when I went to my first dance.”

“A romantic at heart.”

“I grew up watching a strong woman not give up. Love isn’t something to fear but to hope for. Hope that someday you’ll find that perfect someone meant especially for you.” Jill fidgeted in her seat.

“So you hold out for the dream.” His soft voice caressed her skin. Tiny goose bumps flecked her forearms.

“Like my mother, I believe. Love is real. It’s out there. For everybody. If you want it.”

“Do you feel pregnant?”

“I don’t know. Jeez, it’s not like I have anything to compare it to.” Jill studied the strip closer.

Damn test would’ve been easier to read if she were blind. A line meant positive. He peered over her shoulder, his fingers curving around her upper arm. Neither of them were sure if what showed in the little square window was a line or a figment of their imaginations. Maybe it meant negative.

Jill shook it, like an old-time thermometer. Chet’s breath brushed the side of her neck when he chuckled.

“I don’t think that’s part of the process.”

Her fingertips whitened as she gripped the test, raising it toward the vanity light. She concentrated her gaze until her eyes blurred. “I give up.”

Jill tossed the strip into the metal trash container under her bathroom sink and pushed the cabinet door closed with her foot.

“Maybe you were right and we should try it again in the morning. First thing.”

Not sure if she could stand another round of pressure, she left the bathroom. She sensed him behind her, so close heat trickled along her spine.

“Fine.” She plopped down on the edge of the bed, facing him. He stopped in front of her, hands shoved in the front pockets of his faded jeans. “What? You want to meet here at first light or camp out on my floor?” The absurdity of the situation hit her and she grinned. He did, too, and within seconds they both laughed.

“The last few days have been nothing if not surreal.” Chet fingered his already tousled hair.

“You got that right.”

When he joined her on the edge of her bed, she relaxed. She loved times like this. Although things between them might be stressed, this proved they could still tease each other and laugh.

“You couldn’t have bought an easier test to read?” he asked around his chuckle.

“The pharmacist said it was the most accurate one.”

“Next time maybe we should pick one out together?”

They both sobered. He sounded like the other half of a couple trying to become pregnant. As if they’d continue to buy tests each month until they scored the coveted pregnancy points.

Her heart sank. She’d much prefer being a happy family, waiting anxiously for the results with someone she loved and who loved her back.

“Let’s leave all this behind. You have the ingredients for spaghetti right?” Chet stood.

She nodded, her tension leaving at the boyish way he rocked on the balls of his feet.

“I think it’s time you taught this bachelor how to cook. And spaghetti should be an easy recipe to learn. Right?”

“Right.”

She took his offered hand. The warmth of their palms coming together sent a tingle of pleasure up her arm and released the butterflies in her belly.

…

Jill laughed. “We’ll be here all night if you’re going to chop vegetables that way. Quick, precise motion and you’ll be done in no time.”

Her contagious laughter seeped through Chet and he stopped cutting the radishes as if measuring for exact thickness. “I can’t help the way I work.”

“You want me to show you how to slice and dice like a pro?”

“How about you slice and I’ll boil the water?”

She moved toward him, rolling her eyes. The soft sway of her hips brushed against him as she bumped him aside. “No way. Everyone should know how to fend for themselves, and it all starts with cutting vegetables.”

He chuckled. “It does?”

Jill nodded, taking another knife from the butcher block. She grabbed two peeled carrots and placed them in front of her, wielding her knife as if it were another appendage. She chopped with speed and accuracy, the tip of the knife never leaving the surface, in assembly line fashion. Within seconds she had a uniform pile of sliced carrots. She glanced at him sideways, the thin line of one brow arched.

“You ready to try?”

“I think it’ll take more than me watching you once.” He tugged at his collar as the temperature in the kitchen elevated. Or maybe it was just watching her do something she enjoyed with such ease and skill.

“You’ve seen me work before. This was just a little more up close and personal.”

“Maybe I need you to guide me. More of a hands-on lesson.” He played with fire, but didn’t care.