Luck of the Draw (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 1) (39 page)

“
Mmm.”
He unlocked her door and stood aside while she climbed onto the bench seat. She waited as he shut it after her and walked around the front of the truck, his sun-streaked hair tousled and unkempt. He slid into the cab and started the engine.

“So,” he said to the distant horizon. “You better now? Fully recovered?”

“What? Oh. Yes. Thank you.”

Kate bunched her sweater in her lap and stared out the side window, at the trees going by in a blur. A few were already starting to change color. Fall would be here soon. Another season of change.

She sighed silently and pushed the strap of her purse back up her shoulder.

“Things going okay with Carter and the bookkeeping and such?”

Kate nodded even though Jim’s eyes were still glued to the road. “Great. I also helped Lydia re-organize some of her inventory at the store. I’ve been thinking maybe I should try to start up my own business. Odd jobs and such. See what happens.”

“Sure. Sounds great.” She watched his fingers curl around the gear-shifter as he approached an intersection. “Glad everything’s working out for you.”

“Me, too.”

Kate bit her lip and glanced out the window again, the awkward conversation sitting like lead between them. Nothing like ignoring the elephant in the room.
We’ve had sex together but now we’re trying to pretend we’re just friends and all along I’ve kept from you the fact that I’m pregnant with my dead husband’s baby.

Gah!

This had to stop. For one thing, the jeans she was wearing were getting snug in the waist. In another few weeks she’d be wearing elastic waistbands. She couldn’t keep it a secret forever. They rode in silence for a few miles before she mustered the courage to speak. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

I’m pregnant.
Yeah. Just like that. Spit it out.

Jim ran a hand over his face. “Let me guess. Is this about Cathy?”

Cathy? Is that the name of the bimbo you almost slept with?

“No. It’s not about... her. But, in the spirit of full disclosure...”
I’m pregnant.
“What I mean is, what I said the other night, the night of the swap and shop, it wasn’t the whole truth—”

They pulled into his driveway and rolled to a stop. “Don’t sweat it, Kate. We both said things we didn’t mean.” He flung open his door and slammed it closed behind him.

“I’m saying,” she plowed on, body-blocking him as they both reached the back of his truck. “
I
shouldn’t have said what
I
said not because I didn’t mean it, but because—”

He stepped around her and starting walking toward the cottage. “Your life is complicated right now. It’s okay. I get it.”

She ran after him and stepped in front of him. “But you don’t.
Nobody
gets it. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. If you’d just stop and listen!”

She might have screamed the truth in his face, right then and there, but he reached out and steadied her with a reassuring, comforting grip that completely sapped her of the will to be brutally honest. “But first,” she found herself saying, “I want you to know how much I appreciate how nice you’ve been to me. And, I value your… friendship.” She took a breath.
Stop beating around the bush! Say it already!
“I hope, no matter what, you don’t feel I’ve taken advantage of you.”

(And, by the way, I’m pregnant.)

He frowned. “Of course not. Do you feel that way about me?”

“Why would I?”

“You know,” he said, shrugging. “The sex thing and all.”

Her cheeks grew warm. “Oh,
that
. That was—”

“I know. A mistake.”

“I was going to say incredible.”

He toed the ground with one of his boots and met her eyes. “Well. That’s all behind us now.”

“I guess so.”

He tilted his head and she realized he’d let go of her elbow, because his hand was running through his hair distractingly, drawing her attention to all those yummy highlights. He cleared his throat and looked out over the lake. “I thought we agreed to keep things casual, Kate. Just friends.”

“I know. But I never said I was against a... friendly friendship.” Her stomach flip-flopped as he pressed his lips together and slanted his eyes toward her.

“A
friendly
friendship?”

“Yeah, you know...” She forgot the rest of her sentence as his tongue darted out to moisten his lips.

She smiled shyly.

He smiled back.

“Yeah, I know,” he said. Then he shook his head and sighed. “Out of curiosity, just how friendly a friendship are we talking? Theoretically speaking.”

Kate sucked in his words, tasting them on her tongue. Savoring them. “Very friendly?” she ventured, a warm spiral of hope and desire spinning through her despite all her best intentions to be noble and forthright.

He grinned. She could see it in his eyes as they crinkled at the corners. “I’m not even gonna try to figure that one out.” Then he leaned forward and pressed his lips, warm and sweet, against hers, sliding them softly until she parted hers on a sigh. Oh, sweet heaven.

They finally broke for a breath, his mouth trailing kisses along her jaw, up to her ear. “I’m probably the biggest fool in the world for even thinking this,” he murmured into her hair, “but does this mean we get to have friendly sex? No pressure. Just asking.”

She sagged into his arms as his tongue danced along her earlobe. “God, I hope so.”

He laughed, but before she could elaborate on that thought, she caught something out of the corner of her eye. “Jim?” she ventured, really not wanting to disturb him, as he was doing a fabulous job of being, well,
friendly
.

“
Jim
?” she tried again more forcefully.

“Hmm?” He paused, his lips hovering over her collarbone as she struggled to blink herself back to the present.

“Is someone at your house? I thought I saw movement at the window.”

“
What
?” He thrust her away.

Kate stumbled, the heavy haze of desire making it difficult to do anything but blink gracelessly. “What is it?”

“Did they see us?” He whirled and peered up at his house, nervously smoothing his clothes and running his fingers through his hair, as if that would right it.

“Did
who
see us?” She peered over his shoulder. The house was quiet, though now that she looked, there were a couple cars on the road that weren’t normally there. “Is that Carter’s truck?”

“Probably. You made me forget all about it.” Jim bit his lip and looked down at his pants ruefully. “You have a way of doing that.”

“You have a way of making me feel...
friendly
, too.” She grinned, pleased, hoping they could keep up with the easy banter. This was how she wanted to remember their time together. Light, fun and flirty. Tomorrow was soon enough for complete honesty.

His eyes crinkled again, and her heart did a little happy leap in her chest. “Speaking of friendly, why don’t you come over for a little while?” He pulled on her hand and glanced through the trees at his house again. “Unless you’ve got other plans...”

“Actually, no. Liam’s with Susan—”

“Good.”

Instead of the back door, as she’d expected, he pulled her up around the house to the front. She’d never been in from this side, and the street façade surprised her. A simple covered porch wrapped around from the front corner to the side with doors to both the living room and kitchen. It was mostly empty now, but Kate couldn’t help but picture a bench or pair of rockers and some potted mums to dress it up. It definitely had potential. Lord, she had to stop looking at this place as if—

“Why are we going
—”

“Surprise!”

The door swung open. Stunned, Kate looked over her shoulder first, then back at the small grinning group before her.

“We would have invited more people,” Rachel was saying, “but we didn’t know how you felt about surprise parties, so it’s just us.”

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t have a good time!” Grace said.

“Happy birthday.” Kate looked up at Jim as he stood over her, his shoulder just brushing hers. He looked nervous and sweet and she longed to grab his cheeks and give him a birthday kiss they’d both remember.

“Can we eat soon?” Carter’s voice piped up from the rear. “I’m starved.”

“What
is
for dinner?” Jim asked as he pushed Kate through the door into the kitchen. Unlike the last time she was in this room, now cluttered with friendly faces, it felt warm and festive. A handful of decorations hung from the cabinets and doorways. Kate’s chest filled with emotion.

“Did we surprise you?” Rachel wanted to know. “Doug was keeping an eye out for you, but he wouldn’t let us go near the windows, because he thought we’d give ourselves away.”

“You surprised me,” Kate assured them. She caught some silent exchange between Jim and Doug then turned toward the stove. “What smells so delicious?”

“Fettuccine alfredo with garlic bread and tossed salad!” Grace announced. “And it’s ready. So, let’s eat!”

They crowded around Jim’s kitchen table, the quarters tight, but no one seemed concerned that elbows were bumped or napkins mixed up as they eagerly consumed the simple meal. Laughter soon flowed as easily as wine, and Kate found herself caught up in the relaxed camaraderie of Jim’s family.

If only it could last.

“Hey.” Jim bumped her with his elbow, and Kate watched him swallow his bite of bread. “What’s with the long face? We’re doing something wrong if you’re not enjoying your party.”

“Actually, I was thinking I was sorry it couldn’t last.”

“You think this is all we’ve got? I know it doesn’t look like much, but you get presents, too.”

“Presents?”

“Well, present, actually. But it is wrapped. I think.” Jim looked around, nudged his sister on his other side. “Where’s the gift?”

“I thought we’d do cake first,” she whispered.

“No,” he said. “Let’s do the gift.”

Kate pretended not to hear the exchange and made a point of drinking her iced tea as Rachel excused herself from the table and went to the other room. She soon returned with a medium-sized box wrapped in what looked suspiciously like a brown grocery bag turned inside out.

“Why didn’t you put it in wrapping paper?” Jim murmured to his sister.

“I couldn’t find any,” she mumbled back. “I know it doesn’t look like much, but it’s made by a local artisan.” She smiled mysteriously at Kate. “We hope you like it.”

Kate took the box, excitedly tore off the paper and pried open the cardboard box within. Pushing aside the crumbled newspaper, she pulled out her gift. It sat warm and heavy in her palm, the smooth wood silken against her skin. She looked up. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t you like it?” Jim asked.

“It’s... exquisite.” And it was. The carver had caught the delicate detailing of the bird entirely through his own skill. Unpainted, carved from a single wood burl, the patterning and irregularities of the wood caused the finished piece to seem more natural—more alive—than anything she’d ever seen. She didn’t have to ask. She knew—intimately—the hands of the artisan who’d made it.

“This is one of yours.” She met Jim’s eyes, searching for some meaning behind the gift. He only nodded. “It’s beautiful. Truly. But it’s too generous.” She made as if to hand it back, although if he’d gone to take it, he would have found her grip tight on the smooth wood.

“I want you to have it.”

She smiled and hugged it to her chest feeling her eyes moisten with emotion. “Thank you.”

“Time for cake!” Grace announced, scraping back her chair.

“We’ll clear the dishes.” Rachel and Doug began to gather plates noisily. Carter wandered over to help with the cake.

Kate clutched the bird as she and Jim stood in the corner of the room. His eyes were beautiful, unreadable, upon her. “Are you really sure?” she asked. “I love it, but I don’t want you to regret giving it away.”

“It suits you.” He gave a small, uncertain smile that made him look so vulnerable, she held her breath. “I guess you make me think of that burl. Difficult to figure out, but worthwhile once you do.”

She could feel tears burning the backs of her eyes, but didn’t want to make more of it than it was.

“I hope that doesn’t change,” she whispered back, conscious of every nerve cell straining to read him
—his posture, his eyes, his expression.

He shrugged his shoulders and his lips tilted in a half smile. “Why should it?”

Kate pretended to study the carving as she blinked away tears.

“It’s a mourning dove,” Rachel chimed in as she walked by with the salad bowl. “They mate for life. I think his choice was very romantic.”

“I don’t know that that’s true—” Jim began.