The Bakery Sisters (18 page)

Her eyes flashed with annoyance. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Which is my point. You're not experienced.”

“You weren't complaining before.”

Now he was getting pissed. “I'm not making a statement about your performance,” he growled. “I'm talking about birth control. You aren't on any, are you?”

He waited for her expression to change to shocked regret. Instead her eyes widened and then she smiled as if he'd just handed her the cure for global warming.

“I could be pregnant?” she breathed. “We could have a baby? I never thought about that. Is it possible? I don't think my luck is that good.”

He couldn't believe it. She was
happy
at the prospect?

She flung herself at him and laughed. “Oh, Wyatt, wouldn't that be amazing? A baby. I've always wanted children. Could it really happen my first time? I guess it could. Wow.”

He grabbed her and shoved her away. “What's wrong with you?” he demanded. “This isn't good news.”

Her smile faded. “Why not?”

How the hell was he supposed to answer that?

“It's a baby,” she said. “That would be a miracle. Of course there are logistics, but we'll deal. This is amazing.”

He was beyond pissed. Shouldn't she be upset and frantic? “You're not getting it. This isn't good news.”

“It is to me. I guess the odds of me being pregnant depend on where I am in my cycle.” She clapped her hands together. “But still, a baby. That would be totally cool. What a wonderful consequence.”

“Not for me,” he snapped. “I'm not interested in more children. I don't do relationships, remember? If you think you're going to trap me the way Shanna did, you're in for a big disappointment.”

The happiness fled from her face. “Is that what you think of me?” she asked. “I'm not like that.”

“I don't know you well enough to make that judgment.”

“I'm not interested in trapping you, or any man. I'm very comfortable being a single mother.”

“What do you know about raising a kid?”

“As much as you did when Amy was born. I'll learn.”

She was so defiant, he thought, fighting frustration. Didn't she understand what this could mean?

“With your travel schedule?”

“I'll hire a nanny.”

Typical, he thought in disgust. “I'm not paying for that.”

“No one's asking you to.” She glared at him. “I'm sorry you're upset about this, Wyatt, but I refuse to be. I've always wanted children. Maybe this isn't the way I would have chosen, but it's still a miracle to me. I promise whatever happens, you won't be inconvenienced, which is really what this is about. If I need help, I'll hire it. Without asking for any money from you. I'm more than capable of paying for whatever I want.”

“If only,” he muttered.

She tilted her head. “You really don't get it. I'm just some woman who plays the piano, right? This may surprise you, but I'm actually very good at what I do. Between concert dates and CD sales, last year I earned about two million dollars. It was a good year, but not my best. Money isn't an issue for me. I'm sorry you're upset about the chance that I might be pregnant, but I refuse to be.”

With that, she turned and walked away.

Wyatt stood alone in the waiting room, wondering if he could have screwed things up worse than he had. If there was a wrong way and a disastrous way, he'd obviously gone down the latter.

He shouldn't have attacked her like that. What were the odds she was pregnant? He'd been a first-class jerk and he knew it. He'd reacted because of what had happened with Shanna. But Claire wasn't anything like his ex-wife.

She was also rich, he thought, not happy about the news. He considered himself a confident guy, who didn't worry about impressing the women in his life. Yes, he had a successful business and money wasn't an issue for him, but damn, had she really made two million last year?

 

“H
OW DO YOU FEEL
?” Claire asked.

Nicole managed a smile. “I've been better. I'm glad I'm going to have an orthopedic surgeon, instead of the one I had last time. Otherwise he would think I was doing this because I had a crush on him.”

Claire shifted to the front of the chair she'd pulled up beside her sister's hospital bed. “Would that be such a bad thing? A doctor. Our parents would be so proud.”

Nicole started to laugh, then pressed a hand to her midsection. “No. Don't be funny. It hurts.”

Claire didn't want to hear that. “Are you sure you're okay? Nothing was ripped open when you fell?”

Nicole smiled. “There's a visual designed to make me happy. Nothing ripped open. I'm sore because I pulled on the healing skin. There was a little oozing but nothing serious.”

“I wish it had been me.”

Nicole's smile broadened. “Me, too.”

They looked at each other. “I'm sorry,” Claire said.

“Don't apologize. We both fought. We were both reacting. I shouldn't have yelled at you about Jesse. You were right. She's your sister, too. I should have at least mentioned putting her in jail before I did it. Even though I'm so mad at her.”

“I know you are and you should be. You were right about consequences. I didn't think that through. When Jesse called, I just reacted.”

“I'm not sure I would have done any different,” Nicole said.

Claire hoped that was true. She didn't want her sister going back into surgery with the two of them still fighting.

“It's probably good that you're around with all that's happening with Jesse,” Nicole admitted. “Someone needs to be the voice of reason.”

“I'm far from that,” Claire said, “but I want to help.” She clutched her sister's hand more tightly. “I'm sorry I said you were a victim. You're not. You've done so much on your own, with no one to support you. I totally respect that.”

Nicole blinked several times. “I don't mean to play the victim. It's just lately it seems like there's always a surprise waiting around the corner and it's rarely good.”

That made Claire think of other surprises.

“What?” Nicole asked. “You're thinking about something. I can tell.”

Claire didn't know if this was the time. “It's nothing.”

“I'm trying to keep my mind off my impending surgery. Please, tell me.”

“Okay.” Claire sighed. “I had a big fight with Wyatt. When I was gone the other night, I was with him.”

“I sort of figured that.”

“He's not happy about the virgin thing.”

“Did you tell him before or after?”

“After.”

Nicole winced. “Did he freak?”

“Pretty much. I don't know what the big deal is, but he was all having a hissy fit.”

Nicole laughed. “I've never seen him have a hissy fit. That would have been fun.”

“I guess. He seemed okay with it at the time. But since then he's had more than second thoughts.” She paused, remembering what he'd said, what she'd never considered. That there was a chance she was pregnant.

“We didn't use any birth control. Now he's worried there might be a baby.”

Nicole's mouth dropped open. “Oh, wow. He didn't use a condom? Are you serious? Am I going to have a talk with him when I get out of here. It's bad enough he slept with my sister, but to not use protection? That is totally unacceptable.”

Nicole was being protective. Who would have thought? Claire smiled. “For me, a baby would be a good thing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, but Wyatt isn't. He's pretty angry. He started talking about how he wasn't going to take responsibility and that I couldn't trap him into marriage.” She still hurt when she thought about it. As if she would ever do that.

“Guys get weird about that stuff. Especially one who has been burned before.”

“Maybe. I don't know. The thing is, I'm really excited about the thought of being pregnant. I've always wanted children. We argued about how that would happen. It was a mess.”

“I'm sorry he was a butthead.”

“Me, too.”

Nicole squeezed her hand. “Do you really want to be pregnant?”

Claire grinned. “It would be a miracle and yes.”

“Then I hope it happens for you. Hey, I'll be an aunt.”

Another connection, Claire thought. Another tie. She wanted her life to be interwoven with those she loved.

“If I am pregnant, I'm going to have to work on my emotional health. I want to be a good mother.”

“There's nothing wrong with your emotional health.”

“You said I was useless,” Claire reminded her. “I'm not holding that against you. I didn't know how to exist in the real world.”

“Right. You didn't. But you came here anyway. You drove on the freeway to get to me. You learned how to cook and run a washing machine. You're great at the bakery, you're babysitting. You've done all this without any help in a matter of weeks. Claire, I think you're the most emotionally strong person I know.”

Claire didn't know what to say. Her chest tightened, but this feeling had nothing to do with panic and everything to do with the affection filling her.

Nicole continued with, “Even now, you're taking care of me. No one takes care of me.”

“I'm so amazing you should worship me,” Claire said with a laugh that was a little too close to a sob. “I want to take care of you.”

“I know. You're a good person. A great sister and…” Nicole shrugged. “Okay. Here it is. Brace yourself. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Claire told her, leaning close so they could hug. “I can't believe you finally said it.”

“Me, either.”

“I
PREFER THIS TILE PATTERN
,” Alice Grinwell said firmly. “With the slate.”

Wyatt counted to ten. Mrs. Grinwell was building her third house with him in ten years. She'd also referred more than a dozen wealthy clients to him. Unfortunately she was one of those people who had more money than sense. In her mind, her life's work was building and decorating beautiful houses. Her husband supported her activities.

Complicating what should have been a dream job was the fact that she changed her mind constantly. Every house took twice as long as it should have and cost three times as much. Not that Mrs. Grinwell cared.

“I want it to look like this,” she said pointing at the picture in the magazine showing the fireplace of a custom home up in Bellingham.

He had to admit the work was beautiful, but his tile guys had thrown up their hands, not sure how they would get the same look. Which meant he was going to have to hire the person who did it in the first place and pay for her to come down and work at Mrs. Grinwell's place.

It wasn't the cost—his client would cover that. It was the time and effort and the fact that he was still pissed at himself for how he'd handled things with Claire and angry with her for not recognizing the disaster that would follow her being pregnant.

“I'll make it happen,” he said firmly. “I don't know how long this will delay things, but I'll get back to you as soon as I get the details worked out.”

Mrs. Grinwell smiled. “You're always a pleasure to work with, Mr. Knight. I appreciate that.”

“Thank you.”

They talked about a few other details, then his client left. As she walked to her Mercedes, he stared after her, wondering what she would think if he asked her what it was like to be rich.

She probably wouldn't know how to answer the question and in reality, he wasn't sure he cared. He had his own business, he was comfortable. He supported himself, his daughter, provided employment for a couple dozen guys. He contributed.

Unlike Claire, he hadn't personally made over two million last year.

He told himself that her money was the least of his problems. But it still fried him and he couldn't figure out why. He'd always thought of himself as a man who was comfortable in his own skin. He respected women. Other people's success didn't change how he felt about himself. So what was the deal?

Was it because they'd gone out? Did he expect to make more than any woman he dated? Was he that backward emotionally? Or was it something more subtle? If it was, he was in trouble. Getting in touch with his inner anything wasn't his strongest skill set.

“Screw it,” he muttered and turned back to the blueprints of the house and the magazine pictures that had created the current hell of his day. He would figure it out later, or not at all. Claire wasn't likely to be pregnant. Once they knew for sure, he could let it go. Move on. Find someone easier to deal with. Or maybe swear off women for a while.

 

C
LAIRE HELD OPEN
the back door while Nicole carefully maneuvered on crutches.

“I can't believe I'm going to have to recover from another surgery,” her sister grumbled as she made her way to the sofa and collapsed. “I was doing so well getting over the first one. Now look at me.”

Claire did her best not to wince. They'd both been fighting, they'd both fallen. It was just bad luck that Nicole was the one who'd been injured. Still, she felt horrible to know her sister had more pain to go through.

Nicole looked up and wrinkled her nose. “Don't you dare apologize again.”

“I won't.”

“If you try, I'll scream. It's a scary, shrill sound and you won't like it.”

That made Claire smile. “I won't apologize for anything ever again.”

“Let's not get too wild.” Nicole sighed. “What a mess. Could my life get worse?”

“That's the wrong question,” Claire told her. “Don't tempt fate. Although I wouldn't play the lotto if I were you. It doesn't seem to be the right time.”

“I know.” Nicole slowly, carefully lifted her bandaged leg up onto the coffee table. “Another scar.”

“But this one will look like a sports injury or something. That will be cool. Men love women with scars.”

Nicole shook her head. “No more men for me. I'm done with those games.”

Claire hoped her sister was caught up in dealing with Drew and didn't actually mean that. Nicole deserved to be worshipped by some great guy. Actually, they all deserved it.

“Do you want help upstairs?” Claire asked.

“I want to recover right here. The view will be different. Besides, I don't think I could make it up the stairs.”

“I could help,” Claire told her, trying not to sound doubtful. She had a sudden image of the two of them tumbling to the ground.

“Let's not.” She looked at Claire. “I'm sorry you're stuck here.”

Claire sat in the chair across from the sofa. “I'm not stuck and I'm happy to help. This is why I came here in the first place.”

“At some point you have to return to your regularly scheduled life.”

“Maybe.” Probably. “But not this week.
You're
stuck with
me.
”

“I'd be lost without you,” Nicole said, then sniffed. “Damn. I am so not going to cry. We had our emotionally touching moment in the hospital.”

Claire smiled. “We can have more than one.”

“No, because I don't want to cry again.”

“I can handle it. Are you saying you can't?” Claire remembered Nicole being unable to resist a challenge. She doubted that had changed.

“You're baiting me.”

“Uh-huh.”

Nicole clenched her teeth. “I can handle it better than you. Bring it on. I'm really glad you're here. No one ever takes care of me.”

“I'll always be here when you need me.”

Nicole's eyes filled with tears. She brushed them away. “Dammit, Claire.”

Claire smiled, feeling a little smug. “It's okay. I can deal with your emotional outburst.”

Nicole glared at her. “I should throw something at you.”

“But you won't. What can I get you?”

Nicole sniffed, wiped her eyes, then cleared her throat. “Pizza and painkillers. In that order.”

“Shall we argue about mushrooms on the pizza now or later?”

Nicole laughed. “Let's argue now.”

 

W
YATT FLIPPED OVER
the waffle maker and set the automatic timer. While Amy poured her own juice, he set out syrup, then turned over the vegetarian breakfast sausages she liked so much.

He'd tried to explain that most humans enjoyed the real thing, not some tofu-spiced scary vegetarian fake sausage, but his daughter could be stubborn. He knew she got that from him so it was hard to mind too much.

“I'm excited about my spelling test,” Amy signed when he glanced at her. “I know all the words.”

“You practiced a lot. And last night you got all of them.”

She nodded several times, her ponytail bouncing with the movement. That morning she'd picked out a blue sweater to wear with black jeans and boots. She was growing up so fast. It was just a matter of time until she was rolling her eyes at him and sighing heavily all the time. But for now, she was still his little girl.

The waffle maker dinged. He opened the top and used a fork to lift up the perfectly cooked waffle. After setting it on the plate, next to the veggi-sausage, he passed it across the counter to the breakfast bar where she'd already settled.

“Thanks, Dad,” she signed.

“You're welcome,” he signed back.

She took a bite and chewed. When she'd swallowed, she said. “I want a cochlear implant.”

He stared at her. “What?” He shook his head. “I understood the words.” A cochlear implant?

He knew what most parents of deaf kids knew about the surgery. That it wasn't a substitute for hearing, that it was very successful for what it was, that technology was always changing and that once done, it couldn't be undone.

He and Amy had only talked about it a few times, mostly when one of her friends had it done. He'd explained why he thought it was a better idea to wait until she was older. Maybe there would be another leap in technology.

“Why now?” he asked.

“I want to hear Claire's pretty music,” she said, then switched to signing, which was faster for her. “I didn't mind not hearing before because there wasn't anything I wanted to hear that much. But I want to hear her play.”

Claire had done this? He'd talked to her about the surgery and had explained why it wasn't a good idea and she'd talked to Amy anyway?

“Daddy, are you mad?” Amy asked.

He was beyond mad, but not at his daughter. “I'm surprised,” he signed. “We talked about waiting. I think we should wait.”

“It's my hearing,” she signed back. “It should be my decision.”

Which didn't sound like Amy, so she'd either gotten the comeback from one of her friends or from Claire.

“You're eight. You don't get to decide about surgery.”

“You don't understand, Daddy. You can't.”

Ouch. Now she was shutting him out?

He wanted to tell her that he was the adult and he could make any decision he wanted. But to what end? If Amy was serious about the implant, for whatever reason, they would have to deal with it. But fighting wasn't going to help.

He gave himself the standard “I am the parent,” lecture, the one that reminded him to stay in control of his emotions, then said, “Amy, you have to eat your breakfast and go to school. I need to think about this. Let's talk later.”

She scowled, then nodded slowly.

Not much of a victory, but then he felt like putting his fist through a wall. Not actually a mature decision.

He dropped off his daughter, then called his office to say he would be late. It took him less than twenty minutes to get to Nicole's house, during which he allowed his temper to grow until it was nearly spilling out of the car.

He walked up to the front door and rang the bell. Claire answered.

“We need to talk,” he said, pushing past her into the house. “Now.”

“Yes, of course it's not too early,” she told him. “Thanks for asking. And how are you?”

He recognized that he'd barged in, but he didn't care. “Sleeping with me doesn't give you the right to mess with my daughter's head. It doesn't give you access to either of our lives. Is that clear?”

“Perfectly, but I have no idea what you're talking about. And while we're on the subject, you
asked
me to look after your daughter, which I was doing as a favor. I believe that means you handed me access to her life, if not yours. Now what is your problem?”

She sounded so innocent, he thought, hating how he was aware of the fact that she was in pajamas and not wearing a bra. It seemed that certain parts of his psyche didn't care about anything but getting naked.

“Amy wants a cochlear implant because she wants to hear your music. She never wanted one before. It's pretty sick to use a kid to make yourself feel better.”

Claire felt the earth shift beneath her feet and wondered if it was an earthquake.

Apparently not, she thought, because Wyatt didn't seem fazed. Although he was very comfortable thinking the worst of her.

“I doubt you'll believe me,” she said, determined not to get angry, “but I never discussed cochlear implants with Amy at all. She never mentioned getting one, and I certainly didn't. I didn't know much about them until you and I discussed them on our date. What you decide should and shouldn't be done medically to your daughter is your business. Having her hear my music in the traditional sense isn't important to me.”

She planted her hands on her hips and raised her chin. “What I really don't get is why I have to be the bad guy in this. I'm not Shanna nor am I any twisted view of a woman, as you see the gender. I am someone who has only cared about you and your daughter. I have taken care of her and genuinely like her. I will not have you make that into something ugly, because it isn't. Amy's a great kid.”

He started to speak, but she held up her hand. “I'm so not finished with you. I'm willing to admit that I didn't tell you I was a virgin. Assuming that it's still my body, I'm not even sure I owed you that information. But for the sake of your current rant, let's assume I did. I have already apologized for that. And for the record, you were the one who started the whole ‘I want to have sex with you,' thing. I simply took you up on your offer. So you should stop being pissed off at me because the real person you're mad at is yourself. Amy is growing up and you're starting to realize you won't be able to control everything about her life. Big whoop. That's part of being a parent. But you don't want to accept that. You want someone to blame. Like me. Just like you blame me for not bothering to take one hundred percent of the responsibility about using birth control when we did it.”