Not Quite Forever (Not Quite series) (22 page)

Dakota had the good sense to offer a blank stare.

A grin started at his chin . . . he felt it inching up to his lips, his cheeks, and finally his eyes.

“I’ll get you for that.”

He couldn’t stop the laugh that erupted. “I can’t tell you how many times I was cornered in the hall because of my name. I thank God every day my grandfather wasn’t named Horance.”

Dakota raised two orange hands and laughed. “Never tempt worse.” She paused, looked at him. “Not that I don’t like your name. I do.”

“My name is Walter. How many men under the age of seventy do you know who have that name?”

Dakota plopped an especially large portion of muck onto the counter and started squeezing the seeds from the guts. “Walter Cronkite?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s dead.”

“What about the old Vice President?”

“Over eighty-five . . . or is he gone, too?”

“I couldn’t tell you.” She drew in a quick breath and stopped mid–seed expunge, then dropped her hands.

“What?”

With a quick shake of the head she said, “Never mind.”

“C’mon . . . who?”

“No one.”

He moved around her and picked up the slime that sat on the counter and lifted a handful in her direction. “I hear this stains.”

“Walt!”

“Who?” he moved closer.

She backed away, dripping pumpkin guts over the marble counter. “Disney. Walt Disney. But he’s dead, too.”

He backed away even though he would have liked to see Dakota covered in pumpkin guts. “So we agree . . . no Walter Junior if it’s a boy.”

“Fine!”

“Good.”

“Strong names are a must for a boy. For the record, I think Walt is a strong name.”

He laughed . . . couldn’t help it.

“I’m not kidding.”

When he looked again she actually appeared as if she meant it. He stepped into her personal space, covered her mucky hands with his, and kissed her. “Thank you,” he said when he pulled away.

The doorbell of the suite rang. Only the penthouse would actually have a bell, he thought as he wiped his hands on a dish towel and met the chef.

“Dr. Eddy.” The chef moved into the room with purpose, met with the kitchen, and removed ingredients from the small case he brought with him. “Miss?”

“Laurens,” Dakota answered, her hands still in the muck.

“Perfect pumpkin seeds,” he began and took the lot of seeds they’d managed to extract from the pumpkins and moved to the sink. “Start with a good cleaning, a little butter, and a dash of salt.”

“I like a lot of salt,” Dakota told him.

Walt shook his head. “A dash. Sodium increases blood pressure.”

Dakota scowled.

The chef went through the motions of showing them the finer parts of roasting pumpkin seeds before taking the bits of carved pumpkin and placing them on another sheet and covering it with cinnamon, sugar, and spices Walt would never be able to identify. “Twenty minutes in the oven after the other is finished and you will understand why this time of year makes for the most amazing flavor.”

After offering dinner suggestions, the chef blew out nearly as quickly as he flew in.

The seeds were roasting in the oven and Dakota was sitting at the kitchen table drawing on the pumpkin she deemed hers.

“I’ve been wondering,” she started.

He found his own perch and started in on the design swimming in his head. “Wondering what?”

“How is it,” she pushed the knife into the side of her pumpkin and stood for what he assumed was leverage, “you are sitting here with me in South Carolina and not saving lives in California?”

“Didn’t I tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

He waited until the knife was deep into the skin of the pumpkin before he said, “I quit.”

The knife went still and she stopped to stare. “You what?”

“I . . . quit. I needed to find you . . . needed—”

Dakota dropped her hands, her jaw hit the floor. “How can you quit? You’re a doctor. Doctors can’t quit.”

“Fine, I took a leave of absence with no guarantee I’ll return.” He kept carving, knowing she was going to ask a dozen questions.

“Quitting your job to find me is crazy. Not to mention irresponsible.”

“Not when my dream job was offered to me only a couple of weeks ago.”

Her face softened. “Dream job?”

“With Borderless Doctors. It’s managerial a lot of the year with periods of instruction and of course long stints in the field during disasters. True emergency medicine.”

“That’s fantastic. When do you start?”

“I have to tell them I’m taking the job first.”

“Wait. You quit your job in Pomona and haven’t taken the next gig yet? Isn’t that risky? What if they hire someone else?” She’d pulled the knife from her pumpkin and was waving it in the air.

Walt risked losing a finger as he placed his hand over hers. “I was given until November to make my decision.”

“Oh, that’s . . . that’s good.”

She went back to carving and mumbled, “Where is this new job?”

“Europe,” he said, deadpan.

“Oh . . .”

She was trying so hard to hide her emotions Walt almost felt guilty for leading her on. “Or Florida . . . or Canada.”

“I don’t understand.”

He grinned. “I can do the job from anywhere, including South Carolina or California. The conferences and training take place all over the place, a lot in Florida. And the disasters . . . well, those can’t be determined until Mother Nature strikes.”

She pulled her knife and started waving again. “You did that on purpose.”

“Did what?”

“Had me wondering if you were leaving again.”

His smile faded. “Never. I’m not going anywhere. If you decided you wanted to move back here, then I’ll find an apartment. If you want to go back to California, then I’ll book a flight.” It was his turn to wave a knife. “You’re not raising our child alone. I promise you that.”

The sparkle in her eye said she believed him.

Chapter Twenty

“My mother is seething. The gossip mill hasn’t stopped chattering since I arrived and now that Walt is at the house daily to pick me up and drop me off, there is little doubt that the rumors are true.”

Mary managed a snort over the phone. “The rumors are true. Why doesn’t your mother just tell everyone to go to hell?”

“I’ve been trying to get her to say those exact words for weeks.” Dakota sat on the back porch, a blanket tucked around her legs and a sweater warding off the fall chill. Not that it was overly cold, but fall had officially arrived. The fresh air helped clear away some of the morning sickness that started to ease earlier in the day.

“How long are you going to stay there anyway?”

Dakota had been asking herself the same question. “I have another appointment with the OB doc next week. If the blood pressure is still down I’ll probably come home.”

“And if the blood pressure is still high?”

Dakota sighed. “I’ll probably stay. Even if everything continues to go well with Walt and I, he could be called away at any time. At some point he needs to start his new job and that will mean two weeks in Florida.”

“How are
things
with you two?”

“Good.”

“Just good?” Mary asked. “Not crazy wonderful, amazing? Just good?”

Dakota snuggled into her blanket, a silly smile spread on her face. She thought of how she’d fallen asleep in Walt’s lap the night before while they watched TV on her parents’ couch. She’d drooled all over his pants, and woke only when he attempted to slide out from under her sometime after one in the morning. He’d kissed her softly, quietly, and told her he’d see her in the morning. “He’s almost always here, or taking me somewhere where we can talk and plan. It isn’t like when we were first dating. This is deeper somehow. Comfortable, dependable. You know what’s really crazy?”

“What’s that?”

“We’re not sleeping together.”

Mary paused. “Really?”

“We’re not. I’m not even sure why we’re not. He holds me, kisses me, and there are times I think he wants to rip off my clothes and take me against the wall, but then he pulls away.”

“Have you talked about it?”

“No. You don’t think he’s turned off by the pregnancy, do you?”

“Is that what you think?” Mary asked.

Gotta love Mary, the psychologist in her was always close at hand.

“He doesn’t act turned off. I’m sure the opposite is true. It’s not easy hiding an erection when I’m lying in his lap.”

Mary laughed. “That’s true. What is it then?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he’s afraid he’ll hurt me or the baby.”

“He’s a doctor. That can’t be it. He knows better.”

“I don’t know what it is. But I’m not going to push it. The pace is right somehow. It’s like we’re dating for the first time, getting to know each other better than we did before we started getting naked.”

“Getting to know each other after the bun is securely in the oven. Sounds ass-backwards to me.”

“Backwards but right somehow. I think he has something to prove to me and to himself.”

“He does have to prove something to you. Like he’s not going anywhere. Like he’s going to put a ring on your finger and make an honest woman of you.”

Dakota laughed. “Oh, God, not you, too.”

“You know you’re thinking about marriage.”

“I know I’m thinking about next week, next month. I’m thinking about if I’m carrying a boy or a girl.”

“And if Walt is going to make you Mrs. Walt.”

“Marriage isn’t on the table, Mary. I don’t even want to hear about forever unless . . .”

“Unless what?”

“Unless he loves me . . . unless his world wouldn’t be the same without me, and not just our child. Getting married to make me an honest woman is not going to happen.”

“It sounds like you’re thinking again. Thinking and not just running.”

“I didn’t like where I was when I left California. Coming here, even dealing with my mom’s dirty looks, has done some good. I even started writing again. You know it’s bad when I’m not writing.”

“If you stop writing because of Walt, your fans are going to hate him.”

“I just needed to find my happy place again, Mary. I think I’ve done that.”

“Good. Get a clean bill of health, stay in your happy place, and get your ass home. I miss my BFF.”

Dakota laughed and had a sudden need to pee. “It is
all
about you.”

“It certainly is. Love you, Dakota. Don’t get too used to that Southern air again.”

“What?” she said with more accent than when she left California. “You don’t like my Southern drawl?”

“If you put a rocking chair on your porch, I’m buying a male blow-up sex doll and sitting him there.”

There she was laughing again. “I’ve gotta go. You’re making me need to pee.”

“That would be Junior jumping on your bladder, not me. But go. I have a client in twenty minutes. Take care.”

Dakota hung up and all but ran to the bathroom.

Maybe something in the water was slowing him down, or maybe it was in the air. Walt knew it had to be contagious because everywhere he looked people moved a little slower, waved a little easier, and smiled a little longer.

Walt joined Dakota for her OB appointment. He hovered when the nurse took her blood pressure, frowned when he heard she’d lost weight.

When Dr. Fisher came into the room, Dakota introduced him and insisted her doctor tell Walt everything about her condition.

“I’m encouraged to believe you’ll avoid preeclampsia throughout your pregnancy. Your pressure is down significantly since your last visit.”

Dakota smiled, Walt hesitated. “The drop could be temporary.”

“True, Doctor, but Dakota has been monitoring herself and it seems there’s been a steady decline. You should both keep an eye on her pressure, but in my experience, pressure that drops this early is a good sign that everything will even out.”

Dakota captured his hand. “I’m feeling much better.”

Walt offered a grin, but knew he’d worry even if Dakota didn’t.

Dr. Fisher pushed a portable ultrasound machine closer to the table Dakota sat on. “Are you ready to see your baby?” he asked.

Walt’s heart jumped in his chest.

He found his smile and looked into Dakota’s dark eyes.

Dakota leaned back on the table and lifted the gown enough to expose her flat stomach. It was hard to imagine their child growing inside her . . . then Dr. Fisher turned up the volume and placed the wand on her skin, Walt immediately heard the fast heartbeat of their baby.

“Do you hear that, Dakota?”

“A heartbeat?”

“Rapid.” For good measure, Walt pressed two fingers to the pulse point on Dakota’s wrist, felt her heartbeat at somewhere around seventy beats per minute. “The baby’s heart beats much faster than yours.”

“Oh my God.”

She had tears in her eyes. Walt felt his own swelling.

The images on the ultrasound were minimal. Dr. Fisher pointed out a heart, a head . . .

He was going to be a dad.

He couldn’t stop smiling.

When Walt finally tore himself away from her side and made his way back to the hotel, he spent much of the night filling out the paperwork that accompanied his new job. He logged on to his bank site and paid a couple of bills . . . early. Progress, he thought.

Now he sat beside Dakota, dressed in costumes she insisted on, and driving to a Halloween party.

“Tell me again why we’re dressed like this?”

Dakota was smiling. She wore the equivalent of a Catholic schoolgirl uniform. A plaid skirt that stopped above her knees, boots that left only a gap of three inches around her knees peeking through. She had on a white blouse unbuttoned enough to show the creamy white of her breasts, breasts that had grown when she had yet to show any real sign of pregnancy. Thanks to the morning sickness, she’d lost a few pounds, something the doctor wanted to see change if she in fact returned in a month. Even if she didn’t, her reports would fly home with her, figuratively speaking, and her doctor in California would be harping on her to gain weight.

“Because everyone will be asking, so there’s no reason to hide anything.”

Dakota had slicked back Walt’s hair with gel, placed a plain white T-shirt two sizes too small on his shoulders, and rolled up a fake pack of cigarettes in his sleeve. Dakota had the shirt made just for him . . . on the back it said
Dr. Baby Daddy
. He’d laughed when he’d seen it. He didn’t tout his title often, but he thought it might prove to be the right move on this night.

“If you say so.”

“They’re my people. I know what makes them tick. Louise hasn’t said two words to me since she started spreading the news. If she or Missy think I’m hiding at home, they forgot who I am.”

“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, hon.”

Dakota offered a smile. “I’m doing this for me. When I first got here a part of me was embarrassed, insecure . . . not anymore.” She covered her abdomen with the palm of her hand and smiled. “We’re going to be parents. We might not have planned it, but we’re doing it on our terms. No societal restrictions saying we’re doing it wrong.”

Walt lifted her hand to his lips, kissed the back of it. “Save that speech for my parents.”

She cringed. “One set of chaos at a time. Tonight is about the harvest festival and Halloween party. I have it on good authority there will be cotton candy. Have I told you how much I need cotton candy in my veins?”

“A time or two, yes. I almost called Mary to have her make a trip to a theme park back home just to bag some up.”

Dakota cringed. “Hot cotton candy. I need
hot
cotton candy.”

“And hot cotton candy you will have. I’m taking pictures and blackmail isn’t beneath me.”

Dakota’s smile lit the car. “I don’t care. Just give me gobs of that shit.”

“Says the woman who won’t eat a doughnut when she’s not pregnant.”

She lifted one eyebrow. “Doughnuts . . . hot doughnuts.”

Walt rolled his eyes. “Oh, Lord.”

Dakota licked her lips.

“Remind me to check your blood sugar when we get back home.”

Costume-wearing kids, adults, and pets filled the harvest festival. Dakota pulled him from the car and headed straight to the cotton candy vendor. “You sure you don’t want to toss a dart into a balloon first?” he asked.

“If I don’t get some cotton candy there might be dart tossing, but it won’t be at any balloons.”

Walt pulled her close, kissed her head, and moved up in line.

When it was their turn, he told the kid wearing plastic hair-dye gloves and a cap to keep rolling the tube in the flaky sugar. When he looked like he was about to pull the tube away, Walt kept rolling his hand around, indicating he wanted more. Only when the swab of cotton candy reached giant-pumpkin proportion did Walt toss the kid ten bucks and walk away.

The pink of Dakota’s tongue snaked a wad of sugar and she moaned . . . a moan he had wanted to hear since they’d started this pregnant dating dance. “It’s
that
good?” he asked.

She moaned again and his body tightened, everywhere. “You have no idea.”

“No, I don’t,” he mumbled.

A sparkle in her eye met his and she delivered a smile that matched her sexy voice. She pinched off a piece of cotton candy and brought it to his lips. The sweetness hit his tongue with a jolt of something sinful. Before she moved away, he caught the tip of her finger in his teeth for one brief second. Her eyes flashed as she removed her fingers from his mouth and licked them clean.

Walt groaned. “You’re killing me.”

“Good,” she told him. “Maybe I can convince you to have me for a sleepover.”

“You don’t have to convince me.”

She continued to eat the cotton candy, the entire picture of her wearing a provocative schoolgirl outfit, high color on her cheeks, and red lipstick worked perfectly with the kid candy on a stick.

Her body brushed his and she lifted her lips to his ear. “This platonic crap is for teens.”

Walt pulled her body close to his, felt the skin at the small of her back. “Makes it better when we get back there.”

“Promises, promises.”