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Once I’m home, though, unbelievable fatigue washes over me, and I no longer care about staff meetings. I kick off my dress boots by the door and begin peeling off clothing items one by one—skirt, socks, coat, sweater—until I reach the bathroom, where I chug a glass of water and two over-the-counter headache relievers.
Finally, I crawl into bed. My cozy, warm bed. All to myself. For ultimate comfort, I fling my bra off through my tee-shirt sleeve, roll over, and pray for my headache to go away. While I wait for relief, I wonder what the path to the AP will look like with a baby on my hip and no money.
Will I be able to afford child care on a small-town newspaper salary? Probably not. So, I suppose I’ll need a second job. But what second job could I possibly get with a reporter’s schedule that changes daily? Something home-based?
The answers will come to me. Just because they simply have to. I’m an eternal optimist, so although I’m scared to pieces, I’m sure everything will be okay.
Eventually.
ChapterThree
Nate
This is crossing a line.
Boundaries have been breached.
The newspaper office’s receptionist told me Meredith had gone home sick. I had a hunch.
Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, she would not tell me where to find Meredith.
I had to find someone not bound by the same ethics, and that person would be Jenny from the cafe.
“Oh, poor Meredith!” The cafe owner had said, then proceeded to sing like a canary. “She orders dinner from here at least once a week.”
“Where does she live? I know you guys are swamped for lunch, so I’ll just take it to her,” I said.
Nothing about my offer fazed Jenny in the least. Although it’s wildly hypocritical of me, now I wonder how safe a woman like Meredith is in small towns where everyone trusts everyone.
And now I’m here, standing at Meredith’s door with an armload of food.
I ring the bell, my heart stuttering.
A long moment later, footsteps approach.
Now’s the chance to leave everything on her welcome mat and avoid a confrontation with her tool of a boyfriend.
When the door swings open, I’m greeted by a confused, sleepy Meredith. Her curvy thighs are barely covered by a long tee shirt.
I swallow. “Hi.”
Her brows come together. “Nate? This is a surprise.” Her raspy voice is adorable.
“I heard you were sick,” I start to explain…then I notice her pillow-mussed hair, and my perverted brain goes to sex. This is how she’d look after having my hands buried in those sandy waves. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.
“Oh,” she replies. “It’s not a stomach bug. But thank you. Do you always check on people like this?”
“No, just you,” I blurt when my tongue finally loosens.
Her gaze is wary, and she crosses her arms over her chest. In doing so, her shirt hikes up, giving the world a peek at something underneath. Lacy underwear? I won’t find out because I’m not staring. Because I’m different than I used to be; I’m a gentleman now.
“Just me? Why?”
Because I love you. Because my day is always better when I hear “Good morning” from you. Because making your coffee and chatting with you is the highlight of my day. Because I know—I just know—that tool from Missoula is not going to drive down and take care of you while you’re sick, and I want to show you I can be a better man than he can be. I don’t say any of this out loud, of course.
God, look at her. She’s so petite and curvy and soft. Utterly vulnerable in her half-dressed state, standing out here in the cold. Okay, it’s May in Montana, so not freezing but still. There’s a light breeze.
“Because…because I had a feeling you’d need your coffee,” I finally reply, gesturing with the drink carrier in my hand.
