The Virgin's Night Out (7 page)

“It was at the wedding.”

Erica, for once, looked startled. Her only response was a weak, “Okay, then.”

Yeah. That pretty much summed up how Sloane felt.

For the second time in less than two months, Sloane went home.

Nowhere still felt home, despite the fact that she’d all but ran away from here after the humiliation she’d suffered at the hands of her former fiancé.

It wasn’t just that he’d all but stood her up at the altar.

Oh, he hadn’t let it go that far.

He’d had his brother come by with a note and Bobby had hurriedly shoved it into her hands before he beat a fast retreat.

She’d been in her robe, already having her hair done while she read the note.

She’d gotten dressed and gone after him although she hadn’t realized until afterward that her brothers were right behind her. She had been determined to bang on the door until Rodney opened and explained to her
himself
that he’d changed his mind, that he needed time.

So what if everybody thought she was the
shy
Redding? The one who had gotten short-changed when it came to courage? When it mattered, she pushed. And this had mattered. Or it should have.

Then she’d pulled to a stop in front of Rodney’s house and seen him in a lip lock with Paula Hornback. The trunk had been packed and they were on their way out of town—
with
the money that had been given to Sloane and Rodney at their wedding shower for the honeymoon.

Humiliation had scalded her every time she thought about coming home.

Now, as she drove through the streets of the small town, her heart ached.

There wasn’t another place on earth like Nowhere.

The town had two stoplights, a bar, an inn and more character than any place she’d ever been. Driving down Main, she came to a stop at a four way stop and somebody drove through the intersection on his tractor. When he saw her and waved, she smiled back. Judd Monroe—he owned the farm a few miles down the road from where Sloane had grown up and although he had a car, he’d rather drive his tractor.

Once his wife had said they might need a damn tractor for the funeral—one to dig a hole big enough so they could bury Judd
and
his tractor when the time came.

As she drove by the bar, Huley saw her, nodded.

She waved back.

Home.

She’d missed it.

The last time she’d come back, she’d been too determined on what she’d say and do to Rodney. He’d left after the aborted wedding, along with Paula. Sloane had heard the rumors—he had a new job, had gotten a big break and was working at a bank in Tuscaloosa. Now he was back, living with his brother and Paula was dating her former high school boyfriend.

All that humiliation.

How he’d told her he needed a stronger woman, one with passion, one who’d help him
go
places and he was sleeping on his brother’s sofa bed.

She’d come home to tell her brother and sister-in-law about the baby.

But she realized something vital.

She was ready to come home.

“Not that it’s not lovely to see you, Sloane, but if you don’t tell me what’s bothering you, I’m going to start singing
99 Bottles of Beer
until you talk.”

Taylor had come out onto the deck after dinner.

The land stretched out around them forever. Years ago, the Reddings had been farmers, but times changed. Their mother had sold all but a hundred acres. The house was deeded to all…no,
both
of them. Pierce was gone, after all.

Sloane had been sitting out there thinking about how much she didn’t want to raise her baby in the city.

“I’m pregnant.”

When there wasn’t a response, she looked up at her brother and saw, for once, an expression of dumb shock on his face. Amused, she settled back in the chair and kicked up her feet, eying him and wondering if that sudden pallor as a bad sign.

Then he blinked and shook his head.

“I’m sorry—what?”

“I’m pregnant.” To emphasize, she held her hands out in front of her still flat belly. “In a few months, I’ll be huge and then a few months after that, I’ll have a baby.”

Now Taylor dropped down onto a chair, his heavy weight hitting it like a load of bricks. The wood creaked under him as he rocked forward, his eyes intent on her face. After a moment, he nodded. “Okay, then. You look pretty happy with the idea.”

“I am.” She’d spent the past week thinking about it and each day ,other than the endless urge to spend half her morning on her knees, she felt happier, more complete, than she’d felt in a while.

And the decision she’d just made earlier only added to it.

“Okay, then,” Taylor said again, a heavy sigh gusting out of him. “And the dad…he’s good with everything?”

Sloane looked away. “The dad isn’t in the picture.”

This
was the one part that was going to be…hard.

It was the one part that might prove to be problematic.

Or it could be.

But it wasn’t like Boone ever came here. It had taken a wedding to get him here last time.

“Sloane…”

“Don’t.” She stood up and moved to the deck. Bracing her elbows on it, she stared out into the slowly spreading twilight. “We tried to be careful. Something happened. He told me he wanted to know if there was a
problem
.”

Scornfully, she muttered again, “A problem.”

Now she turned and looked at her brother. Chin up, she said, “I don’t
have
a problem. I’m
pregnant
. They are two very different things and I’ll be damned if I try to go through this with a man who considers a potential child as a
problem
.”

“That’s…” Taylor searched her face. “Look, I…” He went red and cleared his throat. “I don’t want to get personal or anything, but you said you tried to be careful so I guess…this…or the possibility of it is something that might have surprised him. Are you certain you’re giving him a fair chance?”

She looked away. “He knows where to find me. If he’s that concerned, he come and see me for himself. If not? Then I’ll be just fine.” After a moment, she added, “No. Better than fine.”

He’d known where to find her.

If he was honest with himself, Boone would have to admit, he’d thought about stopping in to see Sloane Redding every single time he came within a few hours of Alabama. Ever since she’d sent that first card—a Christmas card. The first he’d ever received.

But he hadn’t let himself do it then.

Then, there’d been no reason, other than just to meet the younger sister of his two best friends.

Now he had a reason—it had been eight weeks since the wedding. He’d just gotten back from a brief job in Beirut. He had two choices—either take some time off or talk to the boss about a proposition that had been placed before him.

Boone didn’t do so well with time off, but before he left the country, possibly for months, he had to see her.

The condo where she lived was in a nice, upper-class neighborhood. Although he’d rented a decent car, he felt like an imposter, walking toward her door, unsure of what he’d say or what he’d do when he saw her.

What if
—

No.

He wasn’t here on a
what if
—

He was here just to make sure. It was a responsibility thing, and only that. Once he walked away this time, it would be for good. It didn’t matter that he woke up, imagining the taste of her on his lips. Didn’t matter that he’d spent more time under a cold shower trying to freeze the heat out of him and it didn’t matter that more than once, he thought about how easy it had been to just…be with her.

Laying in a bed with a woman at his side had never been a restful, easy thing for him.

That sort of connection was for one thing and one thing only.

Sex.

But he could have held her forever.

If he was the kind of guy who could believe in
what-ifs
.

The sun had gilded everything gold as he came to a stop in front of her door. He knocked once and turned away, his hands in his pockets. There was no answer, so he knocked again.

“She’s not home yet.”

He saw a pair of bright eyes peering at him from around the corner. Coaxing his face into his version of a polite smile, he nodded as a diminutive older woman came toward him, pushing a walker in front of her.

“Ma’am.”

She cocked her head. Eyes, bird-bright, regarded him. “Are you Sloane’s young man?”

“Ah…” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “No, ma’am. A friend. I knew her brothers.”

“Oh.” She pursed her lips and then shrugged. “It’s Thursday. On Thursday, Sloane closes the library. She won’t be home for a few more hours. If you like, I can tell her you came by.”

“No. That’s not necessary.” He nodded at her. “I’ll just come back.”

Once she made her way down the hall, he eyed the door and then jogged down the steps. He only had the night here, so he supposed he’d just be waiting.

Then he thought about what the old lady had said.

Are you Sloane’s young man…

He had to bite back the urge to growl. Even at the thought.

She had a young man? What the—

Cutting the thought off, he studied the area around him, the busy street, the little coffee shop at the intersection. He’d grab a cup of coffee and wait for her.

And hope like hell she didn’t show up with
her young man
.

It had been a day.

A very
bad
day and all Sloane wanted to do was lay down and sleep for the next twelve hours.

That wasn’t an option because she had movers coming in at eight and she needed to spend the night getting everything ready.

It had been her last day on her job and thanks to her morning sickness from hell, she’d spent a good thirty minutes on her knees in front of the toilet.

She was used to that and had started getting up early just to let her belly settle, eat some crackers. She would have been fine, made it to work on time and everything.

If it hadn’t been the guy 124D.

124D had asked her out three times and each time he’d gotten a little pushier with it.
Politely
pushy, if such a thing could exist, but pushy all the same.

This morning as she’d been heading out the door, he’d fallen into step with her and offered her a breakfast sandwich he’d gotten from the coffeeshop.

Just the smell of the eggs had sent her rushing to the edge of the sidewalk where she’d emptied her stomach almost violently. She’d give the man credit. He’d tried to help, holding her shoulder, offering to help her sit down as she fought the urge to keep retching.

She’d told him to fuck off. Sloane was almost positive it was the first time she’d ever said that to anybody.

He’d just nodded and left. A few minutes later, a friendly cop had stopped to check on her.

She’d had to go back up to her apartment and brush her teeth and by the time she made it back to the street, she’d missed her bus.

That had set the rhythm for the entire day and today was one of those days where her stomach wouldn’t settle for anything.

If she could have just buried herself in bed from now until dawn, she’d be happy.

Gripping the bannister with one hand, she started up the steps to her apartment building, the bag on her shoulder feeling like it weighed fifty pounds. It had several gifts from friends, a few cards and the rest of the personal items—pictures, a book she’d been reading on her lunch break—or trying to read—for the past six months.

The weight of the bag dragged at her as she climbed the eight steps between her and the door. She was only three steps up when the door opened and 124D stepped out. He caught sight of her and winced, but to her surprise, he didn’t disappear back inside.

He jogged down the steps. “Hey.”

“Hi.” She took another two steps. The bag’s shoulder strap slid down her arm.

“Here.”

Frowning, she eyed the man in front of her as he tugged the strap off and swung the bright pink bag over his shoulder.

“Look,” she said, her voice weary. “I...appreciate the interest.”

“No, you don’t.” He gave her a smile and for the first time, she caught the charm in it. “I’m sorry. I’ve been…well. The first time I saw you, you almost knocked the air out of my lungs.”

Then his gaze drifted down, lingering on her belly. “I didn’t…how far along are you?”

“Ah…” Blinking, she just stared at him. Then, with a groan, she dropped down on the steps and sat down, staring back out over the street. It was crowded with the typical Friday evening traffic, people heading home from work—or going out for the evening. The scent of fall lay heavy in the air and she took a deep, slow breath. “Almost eight weeks.”

There was a pause and then he sat down beside her. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend. I—”

“I don’t.”

“Oh.” He blew out a breath. “Sorry.”

“It’s not a problem.” She had to get used to this. Glancing over at him, she said, “You know, this is awful, but I can’t even remember your name.”

“Ouch.” He rolled his eyes and again, flashed that grin. “Grant. Grant Holden.”

The name tugged something loose inside her head. “Yeah. You’re a detective…I remember now. I’m sorry.”

“Seems you’ve got a lot going on.” He was quiet for a moment and then said, “I’m sorry.”

She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “It’s not you. I just…this isn’t the time for me to be getting involved with anybody.”

“Understandable.” He rested his elbows on his knees, looking out over the street the same way she was.

“Did you send that cop to check on me this morning?”

“Ah…” A flush settled on his cheeks. “Yeah. I just didn’t feel right leaving you standing there.”

Turning her head, she studied him. “That was nice of you.” Reaching up to rub the back of her neck, she said, “I could have saved you some trouble if I’d puked the first time we met, I guess.”