Privacy, she thought. And discretion. She didn’t want to do anything to raise a red flag and encourage Brett to find her.
“So,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She was wearing a baggy sweater, but she still felt as if every pregnant part of her—from her buxom boobs to her belly—was on display. She’d also read that most women started feeling unattractive once they hit their third trimester, but...well, she’d liked the bigger boobs. And she liked the roundness of her belly, too. “I guess the cat’s out of the bag.”
He stuck his hands in his jeans pockets, and that’s when she knew for certain that he’d already guessed she was pregnant.
“Not to be fresh, but your cat’s becoming pretty obvious,” he said.
“How many people do you think have noticed?”
“I have no idea. But it was just the other day when I thought I saw...” He made a slight curving motion with his hand in front of his belly.
“Ah.” A flush steamed up her face. Either the good people of St. Valentine hadn’t been looking very hard at her or Jared had been...
Well, looking more than anyone.
She almost fanned herself at the very thought. It was nice to be looked at by him, even though she wanted to discourage it.
“Pardon me for asking,” he said, “but why do you care if everyone finds out?”
Oh, goody, here it went. The big-league lies.
The words rushed out. “I was seeing the baby’s father when I got pregnant, but he passed away before he ever knew.” Liar. “I came here to start over.”
That was definitely the truth.
Even so, Jared was frowning, as if she’d tripped up in her story already and he’d caught onto the snag.
Did the man have a built-in BS detector or something?
He surprised her by circling around the hundred other questions he could’ve asked, but she could tell the subject was still on his mind.
“It looked as if some of that baby stuff needs assembly,” he said.
“I thought I’d take care of that today while you were in the backyard. I want to start arranging the baby’s room before it gets too hard to move around at all.”
“I’ve got time enough to help out.”
But he didn’t move. Instead, he peered around her condo, as if taking in the details that she was so reluctant to give out to anyone.
What did he see in the sparse furnishings, like the sofa and the curtains she’d bought at a secondhand store in New Town? Or the retro pop prints—the Andy Warhol–inspired panel art featuring old-school starlets—she’d seen in a boutique window and which were now hanging on her walls?
Actually she had splurged on those because she hadn’t been able to afford much after leaving the wedding. She’d cut up her credit cards early on, avoiding a paper trail. All she’d been able to do when she’d left Brett was make a quick trip to the bank and empty what she had in her account, which had been meager at best.
Yes, money had always been modest in the Olsen household.
Until she’d met Brett and fallen for him.
Without waiting for Annette to give the go-ahead, Jared brazenly went for the baby’s room, his boot steps heavy on the carpet.
His take-charge attitude sent that thrill through her again, but she banished it. Brett had been a real I’ll-take-care-of-this guy, too, and with every footstep she heard, the reminder was stamped into her.
She followed Jared into the second bedroom, which showed hints of the baby who would make this place into a real home in a short time. A Thumper wall hanging was the first decoration she’d purchased out of her initial waitressing paycheck, and she’d bought something small each time afterward: a mobile that was sitting in the corner and waiting for a crib to dangle over, a pile of soft blankets, a rocking chair she’d found at a yard sale a month ago. She’d finally had enough money to get the real big stuff just last week, and she planned to buy even more when she could afford to after putting aside a chunk of funds for medical bills and maternity leave.
Jared was standing in the midst of the baby paraphernalia, completely out of place, just like Gulliver in Lilliput.
He pointed to a box. “It says bathinette. Did they misspell it?”
“No.” She held back a smile. “You’re thinking of a bassinet. I have one in my room since the baby will be in there at first. A bathinette is a combination of a bath and a changing station.”
“I see.”
Now he seemed even more uncomfortable, and she would’ve merely chalked it up to him being an alpha male who couldn’t stand the notion of diapering a baby...except for that dark shadow that seemed to cover him every once in a while.
He went over to a storage unit and ran his hand over the smooth birch wood. “So this baby of yours...do you know what it is?”
“It?”
He still wasn’t looking at her.
She frowned. “I don’t know the sex yet. I wanted to be surprised at the birth, but...”
That’s when he finally met her gaze, and what she saw ripped into her. A sense of understanding?
Just what was going through his mind?
His voice was hoarse when he said, “But you’re starting to wonder now. Boy or girl. You’re starting to look at the little outfits in the stores and think, ‘Should I buy this in blue or pink?’”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you know something about that, Jared.”
He froze, then gathered himself and knelt in front of the bathinette box. “I don’t know a thing about what it’s like to have a child.”
The words hovered like a thick mist near the ceiling but never descended.
Instead, he began to read the directions on the box. Then he opened it, as if that looming reminder of what he’d just said wasn’t even there. “This one is easy enough. It just folds open.”
As she watched, he got it ready. It took mere minutes.
When he was done, Annette’s hand went to her chest. She could just see her boy or girl on top of the changing station, smiling up at her, waving tiny hands and feet, gurgling and looking at her as if she was the only person who mattered in the world.
Strangely enough, when she glanced at Jared, he was staring at the top of the bathinette, too, as if he was seeing a child.
But he brusquely turned away from it. “You said there’s a bassinet?”
“In my room. That’ll take some assembly, though.”
“I’ve got it. Do you have tools?”
She was almost embarrassed to get her silly little kit for him, but it had screwdrivers and a hammer and wrenches and the most basic single-girl items she might need in a rented condo where she could just call the owner—her manager at the diner—for some help. Even so, she knew how to use what she had.
When she returned, he’d left the baby’s room and gone into her master bedroom, with its equally Spartan decorations: more pop art on the walls, a single dresser and a wicker trunk at the foot of her twin bed.
In an oddly intimate moment, she swallowed at the sight of him standing near the mattress.
Big enough for only one, she thought, unless she wanted a really cozy night with someone.
Like Jared?
She