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I had time, logically I knew that. Forty-two wasn’t exactly ancient, even if my gynecologist made it seem that way every year, but it was old enough that every birthday would decrease my chances just a little bit more. “I don’t hear any breathing back there!” I shouted over the growls of pain.
I drove on autopilot, but we made it much quicker than the usual fifteen minute drive. I let the girls off at the automatic doors before I went in search of a parking spot that wasn’t in Outer Space. Since Lacey had childbirth experience, I sat in the waiting room, and as the dutiful friend, I called Ryan and Chase because they would both want to know. I called GG because he was about to be a grandpa again. And I called Valona because she was Pippa’s best friend.
With my tasks complete, I sat and waited.
And waited.
Before I got bored and pulled my trusted tablet from my bag to make notes for Pippa’s wedding, and to refresh my memory on all the things I had to do this week.
Plenty of tasks to complete. But not a date, or a booty call, or any other intimate activities on the schedule.
Such was the life of a soon-to-be spinster.
Chapter 2
Chase
I hated shopping. Whether it was shopping for groceries, which I had to do regularly, or to buy clothes, shoes or household items, I hated it. But buying gifts for people, especially my sister? I hated it with the fire of ten thousand suns. It was impossible to get gift-giving right, no matter how well you knew the person. They were obligated to pretend they loved the gift, no matter how clumsy or awful or unwanted it was, but no one was a good enough liar to really sell that fake happiness. It was unnecessarily stressful when cash or a gift card was perfectly acceptable.
Except when it came to babies, and new mothers. My older sister, Pippa, was upstairs in the maternity ward having a baby. The first baby in a new generation of the Carson family, and that was a special occasion. Momentous, even. I called our parents, who were off in New Zealand learning to surf or something equally ridiculous, and they shouted with joy and promised to make it back to Carson Creek.
Eventually.
They didn’t even stay on the line long enough for me to ask what kind of gift I should get my sister and new niece or nephew, from all of us. Damn them.
So here I stood, inside the hospital gift shop’s maternity section, feeling absolutely useless. Less than useless. How I could run an entire town with almost no assistance, aside from my actual assistant, CJ, but I couldn’t figure out how to brighten my sister’s day after pushing a baby from her body, was beyond me.
I didn’t even know if she was having a boy or a girl yet, because Pippa in her usual stubbornness had decided she wanted to be surprised, making it impossible to get this gift thing just right. The first thing my eyes landed on was a giant stuffed giraffe that stood close to four feet tall. I grabbed the giant stuffed animal and tucked it under my arm, the sound of a tinkling laugh behind me shifted my attention from the wall of gifts to a familiar face.
Carlotta.
She leaned against a small display of sunglasses and paperback novels, with an amused smile. “What?” Whenever she was around, I got the distinct feeling she was mocking me somehow, like she had some secret, inside joke that only she was in on.
She shook her head. “Oh, nothing. Just wondering if you couldn’t find anything bigger?”
My lips twitched in amusement as I took in the sheer size of the damn thing, and then I frowned. “What’s wrong with this?”
“Nothing at all.” Her smile remained fixed in place, always sweet and polite, and just a little bit sexy, as she sauntered over to where I stood. “Want some help?”
My shoulders sank with relief. “Yes, please.”
She smiled a little wider and rested one hand on my shoulder. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of Mr. Mayor, shopping for babies is hard if you don’t know what you’re doing.”
“And you do?” She was, last I heard, just as single and childless as I was.
“No,” she answered with a sigh, the light in her eyes dimmed a little. “But I have some professional experience. People with money go all out for baby showers, and I’ve seen it all, so let me pass on some of my knowledge to you.”
“I’m sorry,” I began, because I sensed that I’d said something wrong.
Carlotta held up a hand with light pink nails, her deep brown eyes full of sadness and regret, and gave a dismissive wave. “It’s all right. I know the truth.” She turned back towards the wall of products and plucked a few things from different racks.
“What’s all this?” I shook my head, baffled at all the stuff she’d grabbed. “She already had a baby shower, didn’t she?”
“Yes, but one thing I’ve learned is that new parents can never have too many onesies, baby wipes, bibs and spit pads.” Carlotta dropped the items in the basket at my feet and smiled up at me.
It was a dazzling smile, one that always made me feel as if I had her full attention, even as a boy. It was a special gift that served her well in her line of work, but it was hard to remember that when you were the focus of her attention. And she smelled so good too, floral, earthy and feminine. It was exactly how a woman should smell. Realizing I was just staring at her like a dopey teen, I cleared my throat and frowned at the shopping basket. “What the hell is a spit pad? And a onesie?”
Carlotta laughed, revealing the creamy curve of her neck and the swell of her breasts as she tilted her head back. “A spit pad is a cloth that will protect your suits from puke when you’re burping your little bundle after a feeding. And onesies are like baby yoga pants, perfect for every occasion.” She plucked several packages from the wall, in a variety of colors, none of which were pink or blue.
