His First and Last (Ardent Springs #1) (13 page)

“You don’t have to earn anything with me,” he said, holding eye contact. “You should know that by now.”

In true Lorelei style, she ignored the sentiment, instead turning toward the house. “We need to get the rest of these loaded.”

She had to give him credit. Spencer was persistent. He was also hotter and harder to resist than he’d been twelve years before. And with every encounter, she felt herself weakening. But Spencer had also turned out to be a really decent guy. A guy who deserved a girl who wouldn’t drive him crazy, have a mood swing every forty-five seconds, or break his heart.

All of which Lorelei was destined to do if she took him up on what he was offering.

Not that she knew exactly what he was offering. He’d been quick to remind her how they’d ended, with enough resentment in his voice to show she may have been forgiven but nothing was forgotten. So what did he want? Sex? If she believed for a second they could do a little mattress dancing without either of them getting hurt, Lorelei would be the first one in the bed.

And as much as she’d like to pretend she could love him and leave him, the little promise she’d made to stop lying to herself nipped that thought in the bud. She’d take the hit if her heart was the only one on the line, but Lorelei wasn’t about to hurt Spencer. Not again. She may have been a failure and an involuntary home wrecker, but he’d experienced real loss. And as had been the truth twelve years before, Spencer deserved better than anything she could give him.

As Lorelei stared out the window of Lowry Construction, twisting her mind around the man who’d gotten her this job, the phone rang, jerking her out of her reverie. Thankfully, the calls had been few and far between since Mike had left her around eleven. It was now lunchtime, and after taking yet another message that sounded like a foreign language to her, she realized she hadn’t brought anything to eat.

If she went out, she could drive over to Snow’s to see how her baked goods were selling, but Lorelei didn’t know how to lock up the office, and Mike hadn’t said anything about her leaving before he came back. So she was stuck. For half a second, she entertained the idea of calling Spencer and asking him to bring her something, but she still hadn’t asked for his cell number.

By twelve thirty Lorelei was desperately searching the drawers of her tiny desk for someone’s forgotten candy bar, when she heard the office door open and close. If that was Mike bringing her a sandwich, he’d just won boss of the year.

“Hello,” trilled a high-pitched voice accompanied by the sound of heels clicking along pale floor tiles. “Anyone home?”

Mike had assured her no one ever came into the office unless they had a meeting with him, and those were usually conducted elsewhere. Maybe one of the guys’ wives needed something.

“Can I help you?” Lorelei called to the visitor.

To her surprise, Becky Winkle stepped around the corner. She looked as startled as Lorelei, if the height of her painted-on brows was any indication. “What are
you
doing here?”

The question sounded more like an accusation, lined with displeasure and a hefty dose of venom.

“I work here,” Lorelei answered. “What are you doing here?”

Becky’s mouth flattened as she spoke through a clenched jaw. “I brought something for Mike,” she said, holding up a white bag. “Where is he?”

Lorelei knew exactly where Mike was, since he’d made sure she had his full schedule reflecting where he intended to be throughout the day. But she wasn’t going to share the information.

“He’s working,” she said in way of answer, which wasn’t an answer at all. What did Becky have to do with Mike Lowry? And why would she bring him something? Then Lorelei noticed the extra button undone on the blouse and the fresh lipstick. She couldn’t really be after . . . no way, Lorelei thought. That was gross. The man was old enough to be her father.

“I realize that he’s working,” Becky snapped. “I want to know
where
he’s working.”

“I don’t have permission to share that information,” Lorelei said, using what she hoped was her professional assistant voice. “If you’d like to leave him a message, I’ll pass it along.”

Right into the trash.

Becky crossed her arms, nearly smashing whatever was in the white bag. “I assure you Mike would want you to tell me where he is.”

If that were true, Lorelei would lose total respect for her new employer.

She reached for the pink message pad on her desk. “Sorry, but until I hear that from him, you’ll have to settle for leaving a message.”

The bimbo stomped her foot. “This is ridiculous,” Becky said, smacking the message pad from Lorelei’s hand. “I demand you tell me where he is.”

If Lorelei hadn’t been so startled, she might have heard the back door open again. But anger made her deaf to the new visitor as she ripped into her current opponent. “You have exactly three seconds to
pick up that notepad, place it back in my hand, and get out of this building before I rip your face off.”

“Looks like I’ve arrived in time for a show,” Spencer said. Becky jumped at the sound of his voice, but Lorelei didn’t take her eyes off her adversary.

“Your time is running out,” she growled.

“You won’t touch me,” Becky said, but the quiver in her voice revealed her doubts. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Lorelei took a step forward, but Spencer stepped in front of her. “She isn’t worth it, Lor.”

“She crossed a line, Spencer. Get out of my way.”

“You always did need a keeper,” Becky quipped, drawing Spencer’s attention.

“Get out before I let her have you,” he said.

Becky ignored the order. “I wonder why she won’t tell me where Mike is. Maybe she wants to keep him for herself.”

Lorelei rolled her eyes. That one wasn’t even worth a response.

“Leave,” Spencer said. “Now.”

Becky gave one last hateful look before prancing toward the exit. Her perfume was still hanging in the air when Spencer said, “What was that all about?”

“You heard her,” she said, dropping into her chair. “I won’t tell her where Mike is.”

“Why not?” he asked. Surely he didn’t think . . .

“Because if he wanted Becky Winkle to know where he was, he’d make sure she had a way to reach him. I’m here to relay business messages, not personal ones.” Snatching the memo pad off the floor, she asked, “Anything else you want to know?”

“Nope,” he said, pulling over a desk chair and sitting down. “Except if you’re hungry?”

In her anger, she’d missed the bag in his hand. “Starving. What do you have?”

Spencer pulled two BLTs from the satchel. “Lunch.”

She should have known he’d come through. “That reminds me,” she said. “Give me your number.”

The sandwich stopped in midair. “Why? Do you want to call and breathe heavy in my ear? Or maybe send naughty text messages?” He stuffed the sandwich in his face, then wiggled his brows in her direction.

“You need help,” she said, holding the sandwich over a napkin as she pushed a wayward tomato back in. “Twice now I’ve needed to call you for something and didn’t have your number. And I don’t have a cell phone, so there will be no texts, naughty or otherwise.”

“That’s the other thing.” Leaning to one side, he pulled a cell phone from his back pocket and tossed it on the desk beside her napkin. “Rosie asked me to give you this.”

Lorelei stared at the phone as if it might grow legs and crawl away. “Where did that come from?”

“I told you,” Spencer said, wiping a dot of mayo from the corner of his mouth. “Your grandmother.”

“But I didn’t ask for a phone.” And she couldn’t afford to pay for it. Lorelei had no intention of mooching off her grandmother any more than she had to. She couldn’t afford to pay rent, or even contribute much in the way of groceries right now. The only reason she could make her first delivery to Snow was because the ingredients were already in Granny’s pantry. Anything that went beyond “need to live” was something she’d have to do without.

“I’m nothing more than the delivery guy on this one.”

She was torn. Having a phone
would
give her a modicum of independence. Turning the device over, she pressed the button on the bottom and the screen lit up. The background was a picture of Spencer and Champ.

Delivery guy, my tuckus.

“I suppose all new phones come with this picture?”

He leaned forward to look at the screen as she held it up. “I wouldn’t be surprised. That’s a good-looking pair right there.”

Lorelei shook her head. “What else did you put in here?”

“My number, Rosie’s number, the number to Snow’s store, the number here, and, of course, the house phone. That should get you started.”

Get her started? That was everyone she’d have any reason to call. She touched the contacts icon, and as he’d promised, all of the mentioned numbers popped up. Next to Spencer’s name was a picture of his smiling face, a selfie from the looks of it, with a gold star in the corner.

“What’s the star for?”

“Hm?” he mumbled.

She shoved the phone in front of his nose. “There,” she said, pointing to the little star. “What’s that for?”

“Oh.” Spencer took his time wiping his mouth and hands. “That means I’m one of your favorites.”

Lorelei struggled not to laugh. “Assuming a lot there, aren’t you?”

He flashed a hurt expression. “Are you saying I’m
not
one of your favorites?”

“If you mean favorite pain in my butt, you’re certainly at the top of that list.”

“Number one. I’ll take it.”

She did laugh then. The man was incorrigible. And if Lorelei wasn’t careful, all of her best intentions where Spencer was concerned would go right out the window. Along with her panties. And maybe her heart.

Chapter 11

Spencer hadn’t bothered to tell Lorelei that he’d stopped by Snow’s place to see how the cookies were selling. Thanks to a plate of samples that Snow said she couldn’t keep filled, the little treats were selling at a steady stream. It had been early in the day though. Once word spread, she’d likely sell out.

Which was good. He wanted to see Lorelei succeed. He also wanted her to find something of her own that would keep her in town. She’d reminded him more than once that she wasn’t back in Ardent Springs to stay, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t change her mind for the right reason.

“Hi there,” said a voice from behind him as he waited for his gas tank to fill. Spinning around, he was greeted by the half-smiling face of his ex-wife.

“Carrie,” he said, ignoring the punch of heat in his gut that always surfaced with these run-ins. “Um . . . How are you?”

“I’m good, Spencer. How are you?”

She looked good. Still thin. Her hair a little shorter. Darker. The blue eyes, a lighter shade than Lorelei’s, were still sad.

“I’m good, too,” he answered.

Silence fell between them, as it had six years ago when they’d both lost so much.

Carrie’s eyes dropped to the ground, then off to the distance. “I heard Lorelei is back.”

Of course she had. Lorelei had been home for more than a week. Plenty of time for the news to run from one end of the county to the other. “Yes, she is.”

“And you’ve been spending a lot of time with her.”

You had to love the local gossip. No detail left out. And likely a few added to enhance the truth.

“How is Patch?” Spencer asked, reminding Carrie that she had another man’s ring on her finger now. A man she’d slept with long before removing the ring Spencer had given her. All of which meant who he spent time with was none of her concern anymore.

His ex-wife crossed her arms tight across her chest as if trying to hold herself together. “He’s okay. Found some work over in Gallatin. The drive isn’t great, but the pay is good.”

“Things are looking up then.” Patch wasn’t Spencer’s favorite person, for obvious reasons, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t wish them well. A loud click sounded, signifying the truck’s tank was full. As he slipped the nozzle back into the pump, he said, “It was nice seeing you,” and reached for his door handle.

“I’m pregnant,” Carrie said, jolting him to a halt.

Spencer turned slowly, his eyes landing on watery blue ones. Her bottom lip was quivering, and she’d somehow folded further into herself.

“Only a couple months along,” she said, her voice cracking on every other word. “I wanted you to hear it from me.”

He nodded, acknowledging the exchange of information, but his brain didn’t seem capable of forming a verbal reply. What was he supposed
to say? That he was happy for her? That he hoped this one would make it? That this conversation was easy and he never thought about the child they’d made, who never got the chance to take his first breath?

Opening his door, Spencer said, “I hope everything works out for you.” It was the best he could do. And it was the truth. He’d never wish for Carrie to go through a repeat of what had happened to them. Spencer wouldn’t wish that on his worst enemy.

His door was nearly shut when Carrie surprised him by putting herself in the way. “I want you to know that this baby isn’t a replacement for ours. Jeremy will always be my firstborn. No matter what.” The words spewed out of her as if she needed to say them as much as she needed to breathe.