When They Weren't Looking: Wardham Book #3 (5 page)

Hardly. But he could back off for a day or two. “When can we meet again?”

“My sister’s arriving in town tomorrow night, and I’m going to be pretty busy with her engagement party this weekend—”

He held up his hand and she bit her lip. “Hang on. Claire from across the road…that’s your mother.” Well, hell. Now that he thought about it, there was an obvious resemblance.

Evie didn’t bother responding, just wrinkled her brow and shrugged, like she’d exhausted all of her conversational ability for the afternoon.

The next thing he had to say wouldn’t please her in the least, but he couldn’t very well avoid it. “She invited me to the party.”

“You can’t—” She spluttered out the first part of a command, and then gave up again.

Refusing to accompany his uncle to the party would bring up all sorts of questions, given that he’d already told Claire he looked forward to it. Maybe he could arrange to get thrown from a horse. “No one knows?”

“You, me, my midwife’s office.”

That admission pleased him in an unexpected way, and loosened some of the knots his guts had twisted into when he found out. It also reminded him that she’d been all alone with this information, and he’d just pushed her from simmering fear to full-blown panic. “We can keep it that way for as long as you want.”

“I’ll tell my sister after the party, but other than that, I’d like to keep it quiet until the second trimester.”

Something to look up later. He nodded. “Okay. If I see you at the party…”

“I’m sure I’ll be able to hide from you.” She said it without humor, but something about the idea of hunting for Evie made him smile. “But if we’re introduced, then it will be…nice to meet you, I suppose.” Good thing he hadn’t asked Ted about a blond Evie yet. “And then we can talk again next week.”

“When is your first appointment?”

“Middle of July.”

“Okay. Do you need anything…” She bristled, but he forged ahead anyway. “Are there any costs associated with pregnancy that I should be helping with?”

“Are you currently employed? You said you’re staying at Ted’s right now.”

“No, but—”

“Then don’t worry about it.”

“Evie, I’m in a position—”

She held up her hand, and he let her have his silence. For now. “We have almost nine months to sort that out. Babies aren’t expensive, it’s going to be okay.”

He was pretty sure that babies cost a mint, but there would be time to deal with that later. “Okay. Good luck hiding from me this weekend.”

CHAPTER FOUR

She was hiding from him.

Liam had been at the Calhoun farm for almost two hours, and the future mother of his child was like Polkaroo. Ha. At least he was already thinking in terms of children’s TV shows.

Except he wanted to find her. He’d had second thoughts about them pretending not to know each other. At some point, the timeline would need to be explained—at the very least, to her sister, the doctor. And probably her collection of friends, most of whom had children and were very familiar with the standard gestational period of the human female.

A group he could now count himself as part of. Not the friend part, not yet, but he’d spent the weekend boning up on all things pregnancy. He was still freaked out, but the horse had left the stable, so what could he do?

And like many other men who’d found themselves in this position, Liam was ready to do the honourable thing. He just needed to find his future bride. Too bad his uncle didn’t realize he was on a mission.

Ted had kept him busy, first introducing him to the happy couple, and Liam had done his best to be charming and relaxed and not blurt out that he’d knocked up Laney’s sister. After that task was successfully accomplished, the next introductions were to a few people Ted thought might want to sell land privately. Then it was Ty West, a local businessman, because Ted believed in diversification and Liam had an MBA he wasn’t currently using.

It was mid-afternoon before he extricated himself and ducked into the farmhouse. Claire Calhoun was in the kitchen, directing a crew of women shuttling the dessert contributions out the door to the buffet tables.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Calhoun? Would you mind if I find a quiet place to make a phone call?” He waved his iPhone in the air.

She waved him in and pointed down the hall to the living room, before grabbing a pie and heading out the door herself. She hollered over her shoulder that he should call her Claire. He probably would have, if he wasn’t half-afraid that when she found out what he’d done to her daughter, she just might kill him.

Evie wasn’t in the living room, but some of her pictures were. He stepped closer to the wall, glancing from one frame to the next, soaking up her history. Ballet class, swim meets, high school graduation. In the hospital with one of her boys, looking barely old enough to have a baby.

“What are you doing in here?” Evie had slipped into the room quietly, and when he turned around, she was perched on the arm of an overstuffed loveseat.

Might as well go with honesty. “Looking for you.”

She glanced down the hall, relaxing visibly as she realized they were alone in the house. “I asked you not to do that.”

“Not in so many words.” He pushed himself to the full extent of his height, all of a sudden feeling unsure of himself. This was only their third time meeting. He didn’t know much of anything about this woman, and yet she carried his child. And there was only one thing to do about that. “Can I see you later? Alone?”

“I thought we’d agreed to talk again next week.” She crossed her arms in front of her body, her pale green sundress pulling up a bit on her legs, and he couldn’t help but wonder what she was wearing underneath. She was a captivating blend of elegance and practicality, he thought as his gaze drifted down to her feet. Her toes were painted a creamy opaque nude, and the shiny pedicure was like a beacon. He’d never felt strongly about feet before, but he had an overwhelming urge to wrap his hands around her arches and squeeze and stroke until she moaned. His dick twitched at the memory of her throaty vocalizations.

“Is there a reason to wait?” He itched to cross the room and touch her. “I’ve done a lot of thinking, and reading and—”

The kitchen door slapped open. “Evie!” Claire’s voice rang out, and before he could press her for a meeting time, she offered a weak smile and slipped past him. His fingers splayed wide, his arms tense, as he held himself back from grabbing her. The faint whiff of her scent as she dodged out of the room was a punch to the gut. Vanilla perfume. She’d worn it that night in Toronto as well. He’d licked her all over, listing all the baked goods he could think of that included vanilla. He would never look at cookies the same way again.

It was time to push a little. He opened the Yellow Pages app on his phone. Sure enough, Evie was listed. There probably weren’t many unlisted numbers in Wardham. He added her details to his address book, and headed back outside, but didn’t make it before his phone beeped.

A text message from his mother. Well, that was something new.
Your father would like to hear from you
. And so was that, except it was most certainly fiction, invented by a woman desperate to hold her family together without any of the basic human emotions that generally achieved that goal.

Liam pressed delete. He didn’t have time for that. Not now, not ever.

After setting the strawberry pie she’d been handed on the buffet table, Evie went in search of her kids and found them with their father. Only in Wardham would her ex-husband be invited to her sister’s engagement party. And her mother had the annoying habit of liking everyone, no matter how much of a douche they might have been to her daughters. Okay, that only applied to one man. Maybe two, if she counted Kyle, but he’d reformed himself, due to being head-over-heels in love with Laney. So Claire’s affection there had been warranted.

Dale wasn’t horrid. He was diligent about his time with the boys, fair with child-support, and a committed community member, leveraging his position as the Sales Manager at McCullough Ford to give back whenever he could.

But he’d been an absolute shit husband, beyond the providing part. If it weren’t for their two amazing boys, Evie would regret the marriage entirely. She’d been looking for something different, someone mature and dependable and a homebody. She got all that, but it came with anger and judgment over her past deeds, none of which she’d felt remotely bad about until Dale began a protracted campaign to make her feel like depraved filth.

The irony that in the two years since they’d last slept together, Dale had gone through a host of affairs, and Evie hadn’t slept with anyone until Liam. Well, that would have been sweeter if her single indiscretion wasn’t going to be well-documented by a burgeoning midsection in the coming months.

Evie shuddered at the thought of Dale’s reaction.
None of his fucking business
, her inner mama bear growled. For a fleeting second, Evie imagined Liam taking on her ex-husband and defending her honour. Not that it needed defending. They hadn’t done anything wrong. But the chivalrous fantasy was still compelling.

The two men couldn’t be more opposite. Dale, big, blond and brash. Liam, lean, dark and restrained. Also more than a decade younger, a decade which hadn’t been kind to Dale. He was still good-looking, in a fading way. He didn’t play football much anymore, and he had a small gut that spoke to his love of beer and second helpings. It hadn’t bothered Evie at all. She’d wanted to love the man inside, but that man didn’t love her, so it was a moot point.

After her night with Liam, she’d been looking forward to exploring her sexuality, in an easy-breezy way. Liam had been such a breath of fresh air. It might have been the alcohol, but she’d never had such a fun night of sex in her entire life. Even with Evan, who she’d been more compatible with than Dale. Evan, who realized after they broke up that he was gay. Except the sex had been really good between them, so that was a shame for the female population of Wardham.

But Liam had taken it to a new level. He’d talked, a lot. Alternatingly hot and funny, he’d wound her up with murmurs of what he wanted to do, what he’d just done, what he was currently doing. He’d touched and teased and licked, until she was out of her mind with a feverish need for him, and then he’d taken his time donning a condom, teasing her some more as he stroked—

Well, there wouldn’t be any more of that.

The thought of shuttling a child back and forth to Toronto made her queasy, but hopefully Liam would be busy with whatever recent college grads needed to do in their lives, and wouldn’t expect long visits until the baby wasn’t a baby anymore.

If he wanted visits at all. He’d said he would be involved, but that had been under duress. He’d had days to think now.

As if on command, the subject of her thoughts stepped out of the house. He paused on her mother’s porch, surveying the party that spilled across the green lawn between the gravel drive and the neat wooden fence, freshly painted. Evie wanted to think he looked out of place, an urban boy visiting farm country. But for all of his metrosexual good looks and expensive clothes, Liam fit in. More than that, he looked comfortable. He’d worn leather boots that were only enhanced by gravel dust, and his light blue buttoned down shirt, probably meant to be worn under a suit, paired perfectly with slim cut dark wash jeans. A brown leather belt, capped with a significant buckle, pulled the outfit together. She hadn’t noticed how grown up he looked inside. She’d been too distracted by his searching brown eyes, pressing her for more than she’d given him so far, and his deliberately scruffy hair, which she’d wanted to smooth flat with her hand.

She owed him a conversation—more than one, probably—and the man in front of her looked like he could handle whatever she threw at him.

And now he was looking at her. Not moving, or saying anything, just watching. Waiting for her to make her move. Probably expecting her to be skittish and run away again. But he was right—they needed to talk and tonight was the perfect time. The kids were spending the night with Dale.

She looped the long way around the yard, speaking to a few people she hadn’t yet greeted, until he was in front of her. Eyebrow cocked, pleased as punch she was coming to him.

He might not be so happy after tonight.

“Liam,” she smoothed a pleasant smile across her face, knowing they weren’t alone. “Are you having a good time?”

“Thank you, yes.” His lips twitched. Standing in the long afternoon shadow of the farmhouse there was no glare to avoid, but she glanced down at her feet all the same. His penetrating gaze was just as bad as the sun—the warmth deceptively inviting.

“Listen, I wanted to introduce you to someone.” She placed her hand on his elbow to steer him to a more private conversation spot, but instantly regretted the touch. His shirt was thin, and just above where her fingers rested, his biceps bunched and shifted as they stepped away. The urge to curve her palm northward and caress his muscles was…stupid. It was entirely ridiculous for her to be thinking about sex right now. Or seeing Liam naked, touching him while dressed, or wishing he would kiss her. Trouble was, she had a searingly bright memory of all of that from six weeks earlier, and logic and reason wouldn’t dislodge it from her brain.

As they walked, she lowered her voice. “The kids will be with their dad tonight. You could come over if you’d like to talk sooner than next week.”