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“Well, my brother can’t take his eyes off you,” Renata assured her.
It was true. The twinge of jealousy was there, reminding her she had no man to look at her the way her brothers looked at their wives.
But I have you. She almost stroked her stomach. Almost. Where’s your father? Her gaze swept the tent again. She’d assumed he’d be here. Since the doctor appointment, he’d made a habit out of popping up when she least expected it. His excuse? Questions about the gingerbread contest, interest in serving on a committee for some creek restoration project—even helping Irma find the burned-out bulb on the office Christmas tree. He was there. Smiling. Acting like there was nothing out of the ordinary about him being there.
So where was he now? He could show up here without fabricating a reason. Things like big social events, especially ones connected to his co-workers, were logical functions for a new resident to attend. But there was no sign of him.
“Who are you looking for?” Annabeth asked.
Caught in the act.
“Ash Carmichael.” Kylee ran her hands over her stomach.
Renata stared at her sister-in-law. “No—” She was a terrible liar.
“Please.” Kylee shook her head. “I’ve known you for years now, Renata. I have never seen you...like that. It wasn’t just nerves, either. You like him. Like him, like him.” She smiled. “And he likes you. I don’t know how Fisher missed it. An instant spark.”
Fine. Yes. There was a spark between them. Who was she kidding? More like a full-blown, all-consuming blaze. That was all. Some bizarre physical connection that would, surely, fizzle out over time. Letting her imagination run wild or entertaining thoughts of things like love was ridiculous. She barely knew him. And she was pregnant—meaning not thinking straight. Allowing herself to possibly, maybe, fall for Ash Carmichael was out of the question. Except there was the very real possibility it was too late.
Way too late.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Renata hugged herself and swallowed. Hard.
“More water?” Clara asked.
She shook her head. She wanted to go home. If her stomach would cooperate long enough, she’d make her getaway—over the fence if necessary.
“You’re still green,” Clara argued, taking her empty glass and heading for a refill.
Once it was clear she wasn’t talking, conversation turned to the new playground equipment her father was funding for one of the city parks in honor of his grandchildren. It was important to him, a testament to how much he loved his grandchildren. Nothing was more important to her father than family.
Like Ash.
Her gaze wandered to the entrance again. And this time...
He was here.
Of course he was.
Instead of irritation or frustration, she felt... Stop with the feelings.
But looking at him, all manly and beautiful, had everything fading into the background. He was too damn beautiful. Crazy as it was, and it was, the tingles and warning bells and flutters returned. With a vengeance.
I am not falling for him. She swallowed. Nope.
He was talking to Quinton Sheehan and his cronies, laughing and smiling. Making her heart happy.
Being happy to see him was okay. It didn’t mean anything. Stonewall Crossing was his home now, too, so they’d see each other. And there was the whole baby thing.
Still, should she feel this happy? Like, giddy?
Nope. Stop looking at him. Now.
But Clara was joining his group, sidling up beside him—whispering in his ear? All the nausea and clamminess and general ick quadrupled. Whatever Clara said had Ash’s gray gaze searching the crowd. For her—she knew it.
Dammit.
The moment Ash’s eyes found her, Renata was done for.
