- Home
- Pamela Dalton
And Baby Makes Six Page 6
And Baby Makes Six Read online
Page 6
“Hush, you two.” Rebecca’s rebuke accompanied a sprinkle of good-natured laughter. “You’ll make Abby think we’re uncivilized.”
“Hey, this is Wisconsin. She’s got to learn the truth sooner or later.” Her husband didn’t sound in the least bit repentant.
“Yep.” Devlin agreed. “Truth is, Cash is something of a hillbilly by Wisconsin standards.”
“What standards? This is the land of the cheeseheads.” Cash grinned.
Rebecca frowned at her husband and then turned to Abby. “Ignore these two. They talk mean but they really are just two big hound dogs. Stroke them a few times and you’ll have both of them feeding out of your hand.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Abby sensed that Rebecca Castner knew how to keep her large husband in line. What was also evident was the deep love the other couple shared.
“Where are you from, Abby?” Cash asked.
“The Cincinnati area.”
A coolness entered Cash’s expression as his gaze slid from hers to meet Devlin’s. “Another city girl, old buddy?”
Before Devlin could comment, Rebecca poked her husband in the arm. “Behave yourself. You can’t compare Linda and Abby. Linda grew up here and always wanted to leave. Abby’s coming here to stay.” She gave Abby an apologetic glance. “Don’t pay any attention to this big lug. He’s just worried that you won’t have any interest in hearing about his and Devlin’s old glory days on Humphrey’s golden football field. Don’t get him started on Humphrey’s Yellow Falcons.”
“There’s nothing wrong with the Yellow Falcons. Abby should know something about the natives if she’s going to live here.”
Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Then we’ll tell her about the year Devlin and I were elected to attend Boys and Girls State. And we’ll also tell her about the first-class show choir we were all members of.”
Cash grimaced. “She doesn’t want to hear about that stuff.”
“She doesn’t want to watch you practice your Tarzan imitation, either.”
The friendship and sense of history they all shared made Abby aware of how much of an outsider she was.
This wasn’t the first time she’d faced this kind of suspicion. Outsiders always were suspect. She smiled at Cash and Rebecca. “I’ll look forward to hearing about your glory days on the football field, Cash, if you can stand to listen to my stories about our all-state girls’ basketball team.”
A glimmer of respect flickered into Cash’s face. Behind his chest-beating bravado, she saw glimpses of a smart man and a good friend. She knew then she would like both of the Castners and looked forward to getting to know them.
Devlin’s warm palm slipped under Abby’s elbow, establishing a supportive connection between them. “I didn’t marry Abby so you could bore her with your obsession with pigskins, unless you want me to tell her about the time you got tripped by a cheerleader from the other team and ended up in the hospital with a concussion.”
Cash didn’t miss Devlin’s protective movement. The chill eased from his expression and he looked thoughtful. “I’ll give you the true story, Abby, since your husband doesn’t have as good a memory as I do.”
Rebecca poked her husband in the ribs and gave him a sharp-eyed glare. “Why don’t you two go check out the cereals while I show Abby the fresh produce?”
Devlin didn’t seem anxious to release her arm until Abby gently pulled it from his grasp. At his searching gaze, she offered him a smile before walking alongside Rebecca to the end of the aisle. “Congratulations on your marriage. We’re thrilled for Devlin.”
“Thank you.”
“You have a daughter?” Rebecca asked.
Abby nodded. “Paige is four years old.”
The other woman beamed. “That’s wonderful. Our daughter is the same age. Kelly will be tickled. Perhaps Paige could come over and play one day soon?”
“I’m sure Paige would like that. She misses her old friends.”
Rebecca nodded. “Nothing means more to kids than their friends. At least your Paige is young enough to adapt.”
“I hope so.”
Rebecca’s friendly manner made it easy for Abby to let down her guard. She had a feeling that Rebecca Castner was born smiling. “Do you have any other children?” Abby asked.
“Not yet. But I’d love to have an adorable son like Riley someday.” There was a hint of longing in Rebecca’s voice before she banished it. “How are you getting along with Jason?”
Abby saw no reason to hide the truth. “The jury is still out.”
“He’ll come around.” The smaller woman sighed. “He’s a bit protective and he’s been hurt more than he lets on.”
Then Rebecca surprised her by reaching over and patting her arm, her brown eyes turning serious. “I’m sure this marriage is a big step for both you and Devlin. But frankly, I’m delighted for him. I was afraid Linda had soured him on marriage altogether. He’s a good man who could use a little tender loving care.”
“Yes, he is.” Abby couldn’t say any more than that. She doubted Rebecca would understand the contract she and Devlin had signed.
Their carts came to a stop next to the refrigerated-vegetables case. Rebecca reached for a package of carrots. “I have good instincts about people, and I know it’s not going to be easy for you to blend two families. I hope you know, you’ve got a friend if you need one.” She offered Abby the bag of produce and said in a low conspiratorial voice, “Riley loves carrots.”
Abby took the bag from her. A lump of emotion rose in the back of her throat. “Thank you,” she said.
Fortunately, any more confidences were halted as Devlin and Cash returned with armfuls of boxes.
Devlin placed several boxes in the cart. “I didn’t know what you liked so I got an assortment of cereal.”
“That’s fine.” She didn’t care what she ate at this point.
As Cash began to unload his armful into his wife’s basket, Rebecca stopped his arm. “I don’t want Kelly eating that sweet stuff.”
“Good.” Cash dropped the boxes into the cart. “These aren’t for Kelly. They’re for me.”
Rebecca tsked. “You’ve got too much of a sweet tooth.”
“That’s why I married you, sugar.” Cash grinned. “By the way, they’ve got fresh brownies in the bakery.”
“Oh,” she wailed. “Why did you have to tell me that?”
“There’s a pan with your name on it.”
“Lead the way, you sinful man.”
They’d just turned the corner, when Rebecca popped around. “Why don’t you two come over sometime soon and we can play cards or something?”
Devlin glanced at Abby.
She nodded. “It sounds like fun.”
“Great.” Rebecca waved and then disappeared out of view.
“How are you holding up?” Devlin asked. “You want to check out those brownies?”
Abby shook her head. “Chocolate isn’t one of my weaknesses.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “What is?”
Men with jade green eyes was the first answer that came to mind. But she managed to keep the words from slipping off her tongue. Instead, she lifted the package of marshmallows and showed him her guilty secret.
He picked up the box of cinnamon candy. “Hot Tamales?”
She nodded soberly. “They’re an addiction.”
“That serious?”
“Very. I count every one that’s in the box and know if anyone else has been messing around with my Hot Tamales.”
He put them back into the cart and then leaned close to her. “I’ll be upset if anyone starts messing around with your Hot Tamales, too.”
***
CHAPTER 4
The trip home from town passed in silence.
Abby was suddenly exhausted and felt relieved to lean her head back against the headrest and close her eyes.
After they arrived home, Devlin deposited the grocery bags on the kitchen counter before retreating to his workshop.
Abby had just started unpacking the sacks when Riley barreled into the room. He dragged up a stool. “What did you get?”
She handed him a package. “Your dad said you liked chocolate cookies with marshmallow centers.”
A big grin cracked across his face. “Cool. Can I have one now?”
“One or two shouldn’t hurt your dinner appetite.” She couldn’t help smiling as she watched him rip open the bag.
She’d always wondered what it would be like to have a boy, but her imaginings hadn’t quite measured up to the flesh-and-blood Riley. His carrot-top hair looked as if his fingers had performed the hokey-pokey through it. He wore a rumpled T-shirt that was several sizes too big, and his jeans proudly sported a ragged hole in each knee. His athletic shoes were caked with a thick layer of dirt, as if they had trounced through every mud hole between here and Timbuktu.
Paige lugged her ever-tolerant cat into the room. Spotting the groceries, she promptly dropped the cat and hoisted herself onto a chair next to Riley’s. “Mommy, what did you get me? Did you get me my favorite cereal?”
“It’s in the big bag.” Abby frowned as she eyed her daughter’s face. Colorful slashes adorned Paige’s face. Rosy Sunset, if she wasn’t mistaken. “Have you gotten into my makeup again, sweetheart?”
Her daughter pursed her smeared lips. “I only used a little, Mommy. Princess didn’t like it much. She started to hiss and it kind of got all over the floor and stuff.”
Abby wondered what other things in the house were wearing that shade of lipstick. She decided to hold off on the lecture until she could assess the damage.
Jason meandered into the kitchen. He didn’t paw through the grocery bags like the two younger children. However, Abby saw his gaze scan the counter, inventorying all the contents.
She pointed to the sack on the left. “Your father mentioned you like peanut butter cookies. I picked up a couple of boxes.”
Jason’s top lip arced into a disinterested sneer. “I don’t like store-bought cookies.” Then he reached over and caught Riley’s hand before his brother could grab another cookie. “You know Dad doesn’t like you filling up on junk.”
Riley tugged his arm free. “Jase, you should make some of those sugar cookies again. I liked those the best.”
Abby looked at her oldest stepson. “You bake?” She kept her query low-pitched as if his answer didn’t matter to her.
Jason’s face flushed a bit. “Somebody had to.”
“He’s the best.” Riley didn’t seem perturbed by his brother’s hostile expression. “Grandma says he should become a chef. He can cook lots of stuff.”
Abby considered Jason’s face. She recognized the tension exuding from his body. His defiance practically shouted at her. But she stored away the knowledge Riley had innocently offered.
“Hey.” Riley lifted a carton from the last bag. “Why are there so many eggs?”
“Don’t you like eggs?” she asked.
“They’re okay.”
“Me and Mommy like them a lot,” Paige said with serious four-year-old authority.
Jason finally sauntered over to the counter. He lifted a can and read the label. “Dad can’t eat this because he’s allergic to mushrooms.”
“That’s okay.” Abby shrugged. “We’ll donate it to the Food Pantry. Aren’t you supposed to take some canned goods to school?”
He shrugged and set the can down again. “Those people might be allergic to mushrooms, too.” He didn’t look at her again as he left the kitchen. But she noticed he took a package of peanut butter cookies with him.
Devlin was a starving man.
Not physically starving. He’d had dinner with Abby and the kids, sharing another one of Abby’s infamous scrambled-egg meals.
Over the past three weeks, he’d tasted combinations of scrambled eggs that would make a French chef take to his bed. Tonight’s special had been a plateful of scrambled eggs smothered with canned chili. The night before, she’d served eggs with salsa. And the night before that had been eggs with ketchup.
It wasn’t the egg dishes that were causing his hunger pangs.
He had no complaint against Abby’s meals. They stuck to a man’s bones and he figured he couldn’t ask for more than that.
No, it wasn’t lack of physical nourishment that made him seek out the solitariness of the barn on a cold late-winter evening with frustration eating a hole in his gut.
Heaving the trusty ax high, he glared at the log lying placidly in front of him and swung with all his might. The damn thing reminded him of the stupid contract that hung like a ball and chain from his neck. Unmovable. Flawed. And just there.
Except for their wedding night, he and Abby had done everything right to the letter of their agreement. He’d kept up his financial end of the bargain by finishing the Cramden job ahead of schedule and earning a hefty bonus in the process. Then he’d won the bid on two more construction jobs that would start as soon as the ground thawed.
Abby had abided by her written word, as well.
She kept the house neat, made sure the television stayed off until all the homework was finished and helped Riley if he needed it. Devlin noticed that his youngest son, who was as smart as a whip, had suddenly required a great deal of assistance over the past three weeks. The little devil was greedily lapping up having Abby at his beck and call.
Paige, on the other hand, still hadn’t moved into her own bedroom, insisting her cat didn’t like the new room. However, Devlin had noticed she occasionally went into the room to check on things.
Jason stayed in his room most of the time when he was in the house. He ventured out only when it was time to go to school, when it was time to eat or when he needed something. Other than that, he kept a respectable distance from the others. His oldest son didn’t give his trust easily. Especially to a woman. There’d been problems in the past with some of his women teachers. But gradually he’d get used to them after a testing period.
He needed time and space. Fortunately, everyone seemed to respect that and gave him plenty of both.
Overall, as a family, they were getting by.
If only Devlin could say the same for himself.
His increasing desire for Abby was getting out of hand, and that’s what drove him outside every night.
He was a physical man, and all this careful politeness was grating on his nerves. The gnawing ache in his loins stemmed from an overwhelming desire to make love to his wife. The abstinence was unnatural.
If he stayed in the house, he was afraid he was going to break the understanding he had with Abby and do something they’d both regret.
He’d always been honest in his business dealings. He’d promised Abby this marriage would be platonic. Signed a piece of paper stating his intentions. The fact that he’d broken his word once was one transgression too many. He was lucky she’d decided to stay with him and see this marriage through.
He was fortunate she wasn’t holding this pregnancy against him, but Abby, luckily for him, wouldn’t think of doing such a thing. She loved kids. Heck, she even put up with Jason’s moodiness. Devlin figured it was only a matter of time before she got past the wall his oldest son had put up between them. She had a way about her that got under your skin and hooked you before you realized you’d been pricked.
That’s what he was. Hooked and bleeding.
Who would have thought a pint-sized woman who couldn’t cook anything but scrambled eggs could reel him in?
Every morning she pored over the countless cookbooks she’d brought with her from Ohio. She’d read through each recipe thoroughly, making copious notes. Then she’d head to the kitchen, rummage through cupboards and draw up lists before driving to the grocery store. An hour later, she’d return home with more eggs.
It was downright unbelievable the way she could devote hours at a time intensely studying a cookbook. And after ail that time spent planning and studying, she’d end up with the same dish.
Eggs. Scrambled eggs.
It was the damnedest and sexiest thing he’d ever seen. And he wanted her more than he’d ever thought he’d want a woman.
Staring down at that pliant log in front of him, he thought about Abby and taking a slow drink from her tempting lush lips. That was just the first course. From there he’d feast on the silky smoothness of her breasts. Cup the curve of her nicely curved derriere. As for dessert . . .
Don’t even think about it, Hamilton, he ordered himself. He had another long, cold night ahead of him on the lumpy Hide-A-Bed, tucked in between a dog that snored like a drunken sailor and a cat whose purr resembled a rusty faucet.
You’d better learn to live with it. He grunted. Yeah, right. By the year 2020, he should be used to it. By that time, he surely would be too old and tired to walk around in this state of semi-arousal. Surely.
Posing the log just so, he lifted the hatchet high—
“Devlin?”
The voice caught him off guard. He fought to control the tool before he buried it into the side of his leg. When the ax did descend, it tore off a small chunk of the log before collapsing to the floor.
Abby appeared at his side, placing a hand on his elbow. “Oh, dear. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Try as he might, he couldn’t make his tone sound natural. He still hadn’t vanquished from his mind the image of Abby’s naked body.
“What happened?”
He searched for an explanation and found a lame one. “My arm stiffened up.”
“Does that happen often?”
Only every time I’m around you, he thought with self-loathing. To her he said, “I slept on my back last night. Everything has a tendency to get stiff.”
That was the understatement of the year.
Her blue eyes peered into his, concern chiseling a path across her forehead. “That bed isn’t big enough for you. Why don’t I sleep with Paige in her bed—”
“No,” he cut her off.
“No?”
He wished he didn’t sound so desperate. “It’s better if you keep the bigger bed. That baby is going to start kicking pretty soon and you’ll need lots of support.”