When September Ends (19 page)

“How about we both drop Scout at school, and then go to the doctor’s appointment?”

“But what about opening the office?”

“I’ll call Rick. He can get the crews scheduled and he has a key.”

She gives me a meek smile, and shakes her head. “Okay, I’ll get Scout moving.”

And so I accompany September to my first visit to the obstetrician—ever. When Libby had been expecting Scout, I was never encouraged to accompany her but, in all honesty, I didn’t work the type of job that afforded me a flexible schedule. Now that I’m my own boss, I fully intend to be a participative parent-to-be.

I give September the courtesy of leaving the examination room when her doctor does an internal exam. Afterwards, she schedules her next appointment and I pay for the office visit and we leave to head to the office.

“Thanks for paying the bill, Jesse” she says as I start the truck.

I turn and look at her. “September, why wouldn’t I pay the bill? We are in this together, right?”

“I guess.”

“Look,” I continue, pulling out onto the road, “I know that I was kind of a prick to you at first, but let me make it clear that it wasn’t because I was pissed about the pregnancy, because clearly I’m not. I was pissed that you didn’t feel like you could tell me about it. You get that, right?”

“Yes. And we’ve been through this before. I’m sorry, okay? It was a stupid move, I get it. But you can’t expect that this baby is going to fix everything between us. Dr. Phil always says that children don’t come into this world with a job.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means that whatever the issues were or are between us, the arrival of this baby is not the fix for them.”

“Hey,” I snap, “That is not fair and you damn well know it! My feelings for you haven’t changed one iota. I loved you when you left, and I love you now. You’re the one that has some soul-searching to do.”

She gives a heavy sigh. She’s silent for a few moments. It’s almost as if she’s worn out thinking about it. “I know that I love you, Jesse. That’s not the problem,” she finally says.

“Then what is it, babe?” I ask softly as we pull into the parking lot of the construction office. I shut off the engine and turn to face her.

“I just need to feel as if we’re both in it for the long haul, you know? And, to be honest, it’s more about me than you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t want to be my mother’s daughter. What if I am?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” I reply, pulling her closer to me. “You’re not, trust me, there’s no way.”

“How can you be so sure when I’m not even sure?”

“It’s like I said, baby, I trust it. I hope you will too.”

She sighs, leans in closer, and brushes her lips against mine softly, murmuring, “Thank you, Jesse. Just be patient with me, please?”

My dick has turned to granite, and my balls are begging for sweet release, the only kind September can give me, but how can I refuse to be patient? I owe her this much for my own indecisiveness over the past year. So I lie.

“Take all the time you need, baby. I’m a patient man when I need to be.”

She smiles, and brushes another kiss across my lips. “Thank you. Let’s get to work. That payroll isn’t going to process itself.”

And, for now, my priority is to pull off patience, when what I really want to do is take her into my office, close the door, lay her across my desk and fuck her until she knows to trust it. Trust our love, and the longevity of it. But then, that’s just how men think.

January 17th

Okay, so I love Fridays, sue me. Do you know why? Because Friday is my only day in the office. I do payroll and accounts payable on Friday, because Jesse has to sign the checks I cut for both. It’s the one day of the week that I can watch him without him knowing it. It’s different at home. I mean, at home, I kind of avoid him.

Why do I avoid him?

Beats the hell out of me. Maybe I have a need for self-punishment or self-denial. God knows it hasn’t been easy, but I’m going through this
thing
. I’m pretty sure it has to do with the natural maturing of womanhood, along with crazy-ass hormones that make me bubbly and happy one day, and teary-eyed morose the next. The bottom line is that I’m also a little bit ticked off at Jesse. How fucked up is that?

All he has done is been kind and patient, and that part drives me nuts. Yeah, I know. That
is
fucked up since that is exactly what I asked of him. I love him, no doubt about it. And my better judgment tells me that I could never be like Mama—at least right now. But what about later? After our baby gets here, what then? Will I somehow morph into the person my mama became after Scout?

When I think back, maybe she had seemed like a good mother to me because, until Jesse came along, we lived with Gram and Grandpa. They took care of the both of us. After Mama married Jesse, but before Scout came along, I was already past the age where I needed constant attention, and Jesse was there in the evenings to help out with family stuff.

I have legitimate concerns and, when I really focus on it, I realize that Jesse now is not the Jesse he was back then. He understands my needs, and he wants me to have a career of my own choosing. Truthfully, I’d be happy to stay working for him in his company.

I love watching him at work, hearing him on the phone with suppliers or customers, observing his interaction with his employees. His presence demands respect and he seems to get it effortlessly. His employees are all male, which, of course, is a perk in and of itself, but the only one that I have my brown eyes on is Jesse.

I smile thinking about how he makes the guys watch their language around me. It’s not like I don’t have a potty mouth of my own, but that’s just how Jesse is in the workplace. He is protective and, without saying a word, his crew seems to know that I am off limits.

As I finish printing out the checks, I look over at where Jesse is pulling something out of the filing cabinet. I notice his muscular ass, narrow hips and the way his jeans seem to be custom tailored to accentuate every muscle and bulge. I’m gazing at him appreciatively, and thinking how many times I’ve purposely skittered down the hall from the bathroom to my bedroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around me. I’ve been doing it on purpose.

I see how it affects him; the twitch in his cheek and the deepening of blue in his eyes. But damn if he’s done anything about it. That’s the part that is ticking me off. I want him to call my bullshit and come into my room and, hell, take me and make me his again. Yeah, I realize what a contradiction I am, give me a fucking break. I’m hormonal! I kind of want him to go all caveman on me instead of treating me like some delicate china doll.

“September? Hello?”

I realize I’ve been daydreaming about just that when Jesse’s voice snaps me out of it. Immediately, I feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment, knowing that I’ve been busted staring a hole through the ass of his jeans.

“Oh, sorry,” I murmur, quickly, taking the perforated sheet of checks from the laser printer. “I need your signature on these.”

“You didn’t hear what I said, did you?” he asks, quirking a lovely brow. “Where were you?”

“I didn’t. I was just daydreaming I guess. What was it?”

“I asked if you wanted to grab lunch out today.”

“With you?” I ask.

He laughs, shaking his head. “No, with the rest of the crew. Of course with
me
, silly.”

I laugh now with him. “I’m sorry, I’m just a ditz today, I guess. Sure, let’s do lunch.”

This is new. Generally, Jesse brings his lunch or grabs something from the vending truck that swings by at noon. He gives me a dazzling smile, and lightly strokes my chin. “Okay, I’ll sign these now, and then hit the head and we’ll be off.”

A couple of minutes later, I’m waiting on Jesse when I hear the bell over the front door sound. Shit. Someone is here. It’s not unusual for people to stop in and ask for a ballpark figure for this or that, which, depending upon what the ‘this’ or ‘that’ is, can take anywhere from five minutes to an hour.

I get up from my desk that takes up a corner of Jesse’s office and head out into the reception area. Immediately, my hackles rise. It’s a female. And a beautiful one at that.

“May I help you?” I ask.

She whirls around to face me, and a smile graces her full, pouty glossed lips. “Hey there, hun. I’m looking for Jesse Ryan. Is he available?”

“Do you have an appointment?” I ask, frostily. As if that’s a prerequisite to my allowing her to see Jesse. But, what the hell?

Her smile gets wider, exposing her dazzling white teeth, and I notice her tongue flickers over her bottom lip. “Well, no, actually I don’t, but I’m sure he’ll want to see me. You see…”

“Jamie?” I hear Jesse’s voice behind me where he’s obviously just exited the men’s room and spotted us.

“Jesse,” she screeches, “It’s great to see you. How have you been?”

“Busy,” he replies, “But I’m doing well.”

“I can see that,” she gushes, her eyes raking shamelessly over his body. “Well, I just now heard about your construction business and I couldn’t wait to see it for myself. Lance Crawford over at the bank was telling me that Ryan Construction has done some great work on some repos that needed refurbishing. I just bought a house and am looking to do an expansion. I, of course, thought of you when I learned you are the Ryan in Ryan Construction,” she finishes with a flirty giggle.

“Well, sure, I’d be happy to give you an estimate, but I’ll need to get some information from you. I was just heading out to lunch…”

“Perfect, Jess,” she croons, “Let’s discuss it over lunch. I can fill you in on the details then.”

And the way she calls him “Jess” makes me seriously feel like plucking her eyeballs from their sockets and feeding them to her pouty lips.

Jesse hesitates, immediately looking over at me, and I can see the skepticism on his face. “Ready, September?”

“Oh yes, by all means,” Jamie interjects, not taking her eyes from Jesse, “Your secretary can take notes. I’m Jamie Anderson, by the way. And you are?” she asks, finally turning to face me.

“September,” I snip. “And, by the way, I’m not his secretary, I’m carrying his baby.”

It was a Kodak moment, watching Jamie what-the-fuck Anderson’s mouth drop open as her eyes dropped to my belly. I wasn’t showing yet, but when Jesse made no move to correct me, she had no reason to doubt what I’d just announced.

“You two go ahead,” I continue, “I’ve got some things to finish up here.” I don’t leave any room for argument as I walk away and go into Jesse’s office, shutting the door behind me.

Immediately, this overwhelming feeling of jealousy envelops me. Who is Jamie Anderson, and why is she so familiar with Jesse? It seems as if they haven’t seen one another for a while but, still, the way she looked at him was like…well, like she had known him well. Maybe too well.

I kick the trashcan, knocking it over and spilling the contents onto the floor. As I bend down to pick up the mess, I hear the door open.

“Sounds like a herd of buffalo in here. Or maybe just one green-eyed monster,” Jesse says, chuckling.

Oh, he is
so
loving this.

I turn abruptly and something about my expression quickly wipes the grin from his face. “Hey, I was just teasing,” he says.

“I thought you went to lunch?”

“No. Hell no. I made an appointment for her next week. Come on, we’re going to lunch woman-that’s-carrying-my-baby.”

“Don’t poke fun at me, Jesse,” I warn, turning the trashcan upright. “I’ve lost my appetite now.”

“Oh, Christ,” he grumbles. “Why are you freaking out?”

I turn and glare at him. “You didn’t say one flipping word out there when Ms. Pouty Lips referred to me as your secretary!”

“Well, hell, what’s wrong with that? You are an employee, right?”

“You might’ve made it a bit more clear that we’re…”

“We’re what?” he says, his hands now on his hips.

“Involved,” I snap, turning away from him.

His hands are on my shoulder and he turns me back around to face him, clearly pissed. “Is that what we are, September? Involved? Well, what exactly does that entail, may I ask?”

“Don’t change the subject, Jesse. We’re not talking about us at the moment. I wanna know who the hell this Jamie is to you?”

“She is nothing to me, September, I swear to God. I knew her from a few years back. Before we ever moved in here. We went out for a few months and she was a little too high-maintenance for me so I broke things off with her. She continued to call me after that for several months until I finally told her to just fuck off and leave me alone.”

“Did you sleep with her?”

He frowns again, and rolls his blue eyes. “Well
yeah
. But she was a fucking freak show.”

“Too. Much. Information.” I grind out. “Man, you sure got around for being a married dude, didn’t you, Jesse?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he growls, totally exasperated with this conversation. “All I’m saying is that she’s nothing to me and I can’t help the fact that she stopped in here to ask for an estimate. It’s just business—not even that if we don’t get the job.”