Sweet Trouble (9 page)

Bailey

I really don’t know what I ever saw in Sydney Hatfield. Back when we went through nursing school she seemed super-smart, super-hilarious, and best of all, kind. So, so kind. But now, when I need her the most, I find that she’s not kind at all. My stomach is churning like a Cat 5 hurricane and my so-called friend is timing my ginger ale sips.

I hate her.

“Two minutes,” she chirps as she frowns at my cuticles.

Not only is she tackling my nausea and non-stop vomiting, but she’s tackling my embarrassing lack of nail grooming. Her words, not mine. I close my eyes and pray for death as she rubs some horrible-smelling salve into my nailbed.

I must have had the audacity to drift off to sleep because Sydney sounds irritated when she nudges my shoulder. I blink and see her coming at me with a teaspoon of ginger ale.

“One of us isn’t appreciating that this is my first day off in thirteen days. I could be down at that cute little market shopping the craft stalls the fundraisers set up. I could be supporting the
Rebuild Leandro
effort but instead I’m here spoon feeding you tequila shots.”

I gasp and struggle to push the spoon away.

She rolls her eyes and snorts at her the hilarity of her tequila comment. “Shut up already, would you? Like I’m going to waste tequila on my preggers girlfriend. I don’t think so, sweet pea.”

Groaning I take the spoonful of soda and sink back to my bed. I just want to curl into the fetal position. I also want to figure out a way to get Sydney to stop talking. When I feel a little better I plan on doing something really mean to her. Not sure. But it will be good. Epic.

“You need to tell the father, Bailey.”

“I know,” I whisper. I haven’t told her who the father is and I know it hurts her feelings, but I can’t talk about him. I miss him. Like crazy, crazy. But I’m so scared to tell him. I’m scared to even see him.

“And we need to find a way for you to see an OB,” she says, speaking more quietly now.

That’s the other thing that weighs on my mind. I knew I had the world’s shittiest insurance, but now I find out it doesn’t even cover prenatal stuff. Like nothing. I could have gotten supplemental coverage, when I signed up, but now my coverage was set until the next Open Enrollment, the HR lady told me cheerfully. Thanks, I wanted to tell her. So helpful.

I never imagined I’d be able to conceive. It’s a miracle, I tell myself, spreading my fingers across my stomach. What will it feel like to have a little baby bump?

I fall asleep to the sound of her fussing about how prenatal vitamins will make my nails awesome and who would have thought that I would be the one to get knocked up. I wake up a few hours later. It’s dark. The motel room is pitch black and I shine my phone towards the opposite bed. Sydney lies fast asleep just a few feet away. I breathe a sigh of relief. Sometime later she whispers something about breakfast and she slips from the room.

After that, I drift into a restless sleep full of dreams about Nick. Some of the dreams are sweet but some scare me and I wake in a cold sweat, clutching my stomach. I’m angry. Lost. Bitter. How could he do those things to me if he hated me? Maybe he did them
because
he hated me.

There’s a knock at the door and my heart jumps in my chest. It’s still thundering from the dream I just had. It’s daylight and I’m lying, tangled in bed sheets. I try to catch my breath, imagining him on the other side of the door. Knocking. Which is ridiculous. There’s no way Nick could know where I am. My brain is addled from hormones. I get to my feet and stagger to the door. I could use the chain on the door to check and make sure it’s Sydney, but that would be just paranoid.

Feeling stupid, I unlock the door.

“Surprise!” Sydney yells, practically giving me a heart attack. “I brought breakfast tacos
and
coffee.”

“Did you forget your key?”

She pushes past me and sets several bags down on the little coffee table by the window. “I did. Sorry. But to make up for it you can have the only potato and egg. Can you believe they…”

Sydney’s voice fades and the foil-wrapped taco she’s holding, rolls from her hand, landing on the stained carpet. She’s staring past me with a look of terror on her face. I spin towards the open door.

Nick steps into the room.

Sydney grabs a cup of coffee and tears the lid off. She’s holding it like a weapon. Her hand shakes so badly the coffee sloshes. “Who the fuck are you?”

He just stands there, scanning the motel room with a look of disgust. He’s wearing a suit, a
suit!
And a tie. His eyes are hidden behind a pair of aviators and he’s clean-shaven. I’m not sure what part of the whole picture surprises me the most. The clothing. It has to be the clothing. I’m used to seeing him in jeans, boots and a rumpled shirt. Normally, he wears his clothes like he’s mad at them. Not today. The suit fits him perfectly, accentuating his powerful build.

Nick might be dangerous. I should flee. Run. But I can’t move because my body won’t obey my frightened thoughts. All I can do is stare at Nick McKinley. In my hotel room. Wearing a suit.

He shakes his head and kicks aside a pizza box. Giving Sydney a brittle smile, he takes his sunglasses off and slides them in his breast pocket. “I’m the baby-daddy.”

Sydney’s eyes flash. “Is that true, Bailey?”

“Yes,” I say, softly. “That’s Nick.”

“The guy from the dance hall?”

“Yes.”

“Why wouldn’t you tell me?” She shakes her head in disbelief. Great. Now she’s mad at me too. She’s not enraged like Nick but the hurt is there in her eyes. Suddenly I feel so tired. So empty. I say nothing and go back to my bed and pull the covers over myself. I feel like I have the world’s worst hangover and I just want the world to go away. I close my eyes but not for long, because the blankets are ripped away.

“Get up,” Nick snarls.

“Whoa, there Nick!” Sydney rushes to my side of the bed and tries to get between me and Nick. “She has the day off and she’s sleeping today.”

“She can sleep in my truck. I’m taking her home.”

Nick crosses the room, picks up my bag and tosses it on the foot of my bed.

“To her mother’s?” Sydney asks.

“To my house,” Nick says. He picks up my cowboy boots and shoves them in the bag. “We’re marrying so I can take care of her. Give her and the baby insurance, and a home.”

“Insurance?” Sydney looks from me to him and back to me. “Okay.”

“Yes. Insurance. Also, I don’t want her living in shitty motels.” Next he holds up a pair of jeans. “Yours?”

He directs the question to Sydney who’s still in a state of shock. I would be too if I had the energy.

“Those are hers,” she says.

“I’m not going with you, Nick,” I say softly. I struggle to sit up and hang my feet over the edge of the bed.

He doesn’t say anything. Instead he throws more of my stuff into the bag and Sydney fishes out a pair of her sneakers.

“Why are you so mad at Bailey?” she asks.

“Why don’t you ask her when she planned on telling me she was pregnant?”

She shrugs. “Okay. Bailey, when were you planning on telling Nick you were pregnant?”

I scowl at her.

“How did
you
find out she was pregnant?” Sydney asks Nick.

“My sister is Olivia Mathews. She was here working a few days ago.”

Sydney nods. “I know Olivia.” I can see her changing her mind about the man she was about to hurl coffee at a moment ago. She eyes him appreciatively, nodding. “Okay.”

“I’m here to take her home.”

“Sounds like a plan. I mean, I like taking care of her, but I need to work too,” Sydney says. “She’s been talking about you.”

“Sydney…” I whisper. She glances my direction and I summon my strength to shake my head. I don’t want Nick to know I was missing him or calling out in my sleep or any of that.

Sydney ignores me and just talks with Nick about which piles of clothing are mine. Not only is she chatting with him about how much I’ve thrown up and how tearful and hormonal I’ve been but, she’s
helping
pack my stuff.

Now I hate both of them and I want to hurt them anyway I can. Mostly Nick. I want to tear his heart to pieces like he did mine.

So, naturally, I go for the lowest blow I can muster. “I’m not sure he’s the father.”

That doesn’t even phase him and judging from Sydney’s expression she’s not buying it either. I hear him chuckle softly as he goes into the bathroom. She follows him and I listen as they talk about what’s mine and what’s hers.

I close my eyes and the image that plays in my mind, a dream I’ve had two or three times, is of the river that runs through Nick’s property, the same one that wiped out the Leandro homes. When we crossed it on his bike, it carried parts of people’s home, parts of their lives. Debris.

I can see it in my mind’s eye, the way I saw it in my dream, but now the rushing water takes other
things. My nursing scrubs. A pair of fatigues. And a child’s doll dressed in a little jumper. The memory makes me shiver. I sink into the bedding, wishing it all would go away. Nick. My strange dreams. Even Sydney. I feel utterly spent.

All I know is that I have nowhere to go. I can’t stay at this motel. I can’t go back to Susanna’s apartment, and I for sure can’t go back home. My mother made it perfectly clear I wasn’t welcome. Not pregnant.

Don’t come running to me with your problem
.

That’s what she said just before she hung up on me.

The sound of a zipper draws me from my fretful thoughts, and I open my eyes just as Nick picks me up.

He looks down at me, his grey eyes cold and angry. “Don’t scream.”

Nick

Owning several roofing companies is rewarding. In my early twenties, just out of prison with nothing more than a few tools and a work ethic, I started my first business. I put in long hours and did the work of three men. By the time I was twenty-eight, I was netting a quarter of a million a year. At thirty-two it’s twice that.

Not bad for a felon.

One of the perks is that over the years, I’ve done favors for a few people. One of them is Judge Harding. People call him Judge Hard Ass. While the man is a son of a bitch in the courtroom, he’s a teddy bear everywhere else. He presided over my case and sent me to prison, but he intervened when new evidence turned up. The man who put me behind bars is going to marry me and Bailey. Life changes. That’s for sure.

As I drive down his long, tree-lined driveway, the house comes into view. The metal roof glints in the afternoon sunshine.

“Now that’s a fine roof,” I say.

Bailey’s not saying a word and hasn’t the entire four hours it took to drive from Leandro to Fulton. The trip took five times longer than it should have because we had to backtrack a few times to avoid washed out roads, but we’re here now and Harding is ready for us. He stands in his doorway, waving. His wife stands beside him with a big smile on her face.

I can tell she loves weddings the way Gran and Olivia and just about every female does. Too bad this isn’t going to be one of those weddings. I pat my pocket and feel the outline of the ring I bought this morning. I have no idea if it will fit but at least I have one to put on her finger. Platinum band. Oval diamond. Four carets.

Bailey glances at me. Her expression is taut. Wary.

I get out, circle the truck and open her door.

“Bailey,” I say quietly. “If something happens like you get sick or hurt who would talk to the doctors?”

She shakes her head, staring at me in bewilderment.

“Sydney?” I ask.

“No.” Her voice is small and she looks a little offended by my questions.

“Your mother?”

“I don’t know.”

“Let’s see, she’s in California. Am I right?”

“Yes…”

“And she’s not exactly crazy about you being pregnant. Right?”

She draws a sharp breath that sounds almost painful. Her shoulders heave and her eyes fill with tears. “No. She isn’t.”

I lower my voice. “So, that means you have no one.”

A few tears spill and roll down her face. She swipes them away looking at me with pure fury.

“And if you have no one, the baby has no one.”

She squeezes her lids shut and presses the palms of her hands against her eyes.

“Which is why the two of us are going into this nice man’s house and we’re going to say our vows.”

She’s shaking her head and her breathing is coming faster, like she’s sobbing.

“I don’t want to do that,” she whispers.

I wait, glance back at the Judge and Mrs. Harding who have the good manners to act like they’re chatting about something terribly interesting and not witnessing a couple having a fight. I sigh. Wait till they see my bride, barefooted in mismatched pajamas with a tousled bed-head.

I should give her a moment to change into something a little prettier, but I don’t want to give her time to think about any of this. I don’t know how close I came to losing her. If Olivia hadn’t said anything, I might never have known about the baby. Bailey might have done a disappearing act on me. The idea makes me sick to my stomach.

Turning back to her, I speak with more force, because I need to fast-track this thing. “You don’t want to get married? Well, tough
shit
, Bailey. It’s a little late for thinking about what you want and don’t want. We’re going to do this. Right here. Right now. Because that’s what needs to happen for the sake of
our baby
.”

“Olivia told me what you did to David Voss,” she throws the words in my face. “That you wanted to destroy the family.”

I knew this was coming. Olivia tried to explain my behavior and my past to Bailey, the last person I wanted her to talk to. She tried to make things better with a little my-brother’s-not-that-bad explanation. Olivia would never in a hundred years imagine that Bailey had been the girl I’d called her about at one in the morning, a few weeks back. That stormy night seems so long ago.

Lifting her chin, I coax her to meet my gaze. “Bailey,” I soften my voice as much as I can. “All I want to do is take care of you.”

She doesn’t say anything for a long moment but I think I see her relenting.

“Baby, you
fainted.
”

She actually flinches when I say that.

“I’m doing this because it’s important to me. The baby’s important to me. You’re important to me.”

She searches my face like she thinks I’m bullshitting. I don’t say another word. There’s nothing more I can offer but those simple words. The final decision is hers to make.

“Okay,” she sniffles. She wipes her face with her sleeve and glares at me. “I’ll marry you.”

Thank fuck. I take her hand and pull her from the truck. I’ve got to get her inside before she changes her mind.

Judge Harding doesn’t bat an eye when we walk up the steps. A hint of surprise flits across Mrs. Harding’s eyes but she’s nothing but warmth and smiles for my tearful bride. The whole county is filled with emergency response teams, helping families who lost homes. The Harding’s probably assume she’s a flood victim. I didn’t give them a lot of information. Just that I’d gotten a girl in trouble and needed to do right by her.

They usher us into the den. The judge has his secretary there with the paperwork and Bailey signs without a word.

“I thought saying your vows over by the fireplace would be nice. What do you think, dear?” Mrs. Harding asks Bailey.

Bailey doesn’t answer. She just shrugs like a sulky, little teenager. Which, at barely twenty, she practically is.

“That’s perfect,” I say.

She scowls, but follows me over to the fireplace. I turn her to face me and take her other hand in mine. The last thing she wants to do is clasp hands and look into each other’s eyes, but it’s just for a few minutes. Judge Harding takes out a book and begins the vows.

Bailey looks up at me with her tear-stained face, her lips tightly pursed. Hostility radiates off her. I can hardly wait to kiss
that
mouth. She’ll probably sink her teeth into my lips. For some reason, that makes my cock harden. Even more. I’ve been suffering in a state of semi-arousal since I walked into her shitty hotel room. But I’m pretty sure Bailey and me aren’t going to be burning up the bedsheets on our wedding night.

There’s a lull in the vows and I snap out of my thoughts.

Mrs. Harding is beaming at me. She prompts me with a whispered, “
I do
.”

“I do,” I say quickly.

Then Harding says the part for Bailey. Half-way through, she jerks her head to look at him. “I’m not obeying him. Take that part out.”

Harding’s brows shoot up and he sighs. The wife murmurs a few words of dismay. Bailey gives me a look like she’s daring me to insist. I don’t say a word, and the judge proceeds, reciting the vows without the offending words. And when he pauses, she parts her lips to speak but draws a shaky breath instead. I press her hands and wait.

“Nick…” she breathes my name so softly I wonder if I heard it at all. Her eyes fill with tears once more and she blinks, trying to keep from crying.

Finally, after what feels like forever, she whispers, “I do.”