Chapter Thirty-Three

Even as thoughts of JohnScott filled me with nervous energy, apprehension about his quarterback’s grandfather zapped my strength, leaving me exhausted. Late Monday afternoon, I dropped by the United for groceries and ended up talking to Ruthie for way too long. When I finally trudged home, Rowdy was waiting for me on the front porch.

I scratched behind his ears, leaving comb marks in the black-and-gray fur, and then I lowered myself carefully to sit next to him on the steps. “How did you get out here, old man? You’re supposed to be in the house where it’s cool.”

He rolled to his side.

“I feel the same way.” Leaning an elbow on the porch, I arched my back slightly, attempting to ease the achiness. “Another week or so, Rowdy. Then my back won’t hurt anymore.”

The dog whined softly as though speculating which of us was more pathetic.

Five more minutes. Then I’d lumber into the house, trade my jeans and T-shirt for soft pajamas, and point all the vents of the air conditioner straight at the recliner. Even though temperatures had started falling at night, the afternoons and evenings were still warm as blazes.

Rowdy rested his head on my arm, silently begging to be scratched again.

“You know what?” I put my face close to his and whispered, “I like JohnScott.”

The tufts of hair above the dog’s eyes lifted, and his silver eyes seemed concerned.

“I know it’s not ideal, but it could work.”

He whimpered, echoing a doubt in my heart, but I rubbed his neck absentmindedly while I prayed. God, JohnScott’s a good man, and I think I could be happy with him. Just please let him be what the baby and I need.

The dog’s ears twitched, and then he lifted his head and woofed softly.

Three seconds later, the sound of an approaching vehicle invigorated my tired muscles. Hoping JohnScott was dropping by after practice, I pulled myself up and leaned against the porch rail, but when a black F-150 sped around the curve, I sighed. Behind me, it sounded like Rowdy did the same.

Tyler pulled to a stop and climbed out of the truck with his hair falling rakishly over his eyes. That look once would have sent shivers down my spine, but my attraction for him had withered away like a buttercup at the end of the season.

“I thought you’d never get home, babe. Where have you been?” He reached into the bed of the truck and retrieved a large box.

His words jumbled in my head, but the comfort of the recliner still called to me, and I hoped he would leave soon. I motioned to the box he carried. “What’s this?”

He spun the box around with a flourish, holding it up for my inspection. “Figured you’d need one.”

“An infant car seat.” My spirits fell. “Thank you, Tyler.”

His eyes flashed for an instant, but then he lowered his chin like a kindergarten teacher softening his discipline. “You sound funny, but that’s all right. You’re welcome.”

Rowdy padded around him, sniffed his leather sandals, then perched on the step between us.

“If I sound funny, it’s because I’m wondering if there are strings attached.”

Tyler’s jaw moved a fraction to the side before he grinned broadly. “No, Fawn. No strings attached. I just wanted to do something for my son, if that’s all right with you.”

I rubbed a hand across my forehead. “Of course it’s all right. I’m just tired and stressed.”

He held the box toward me. “I got the most expensive one.”

I knew he didn’t mean to brag—he always bought the most expensive things—so I softened my tone. “It’s the one I wanted. It has a base.”

“A base?”

“It stays in the car, but you can also use a seat belt. Like that.” I pointed to the picture.

“Seems like an awful lot of trouble.”

I sighed. “I’ve been reading. You can’t imagine what it takes to be a good parent.”

He rested the box on his hip, and I wondered if he was listening.

“Marry me, Fawn.” His body language still said alpha male, but his voice held a desperate quality that seemed out of character.

I pulled the car seat roughly from under his arm. “No strings, remember?”

“Right. No strings.”

“I do appreciate the car seat, though.”

He laughed, but not his usual chuckle of controlled masculinity. Instead, a high-pitched giggle slipped between his teeth, sending a shiver across my shoulder blades. “You should take a look in your house, babe.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come and see. You’re going to love it.” He leaped up the porch, opened the door, and stood to the side.

Rowdy pushed against my legs, seeming to herd me away from Tyler, but I snapped my fingers to get him to cooperate. Just inside the door, I froze.

Boxes covered the loveseat and stood piled in the corner, their labels revealing a bassinet, a swing, a walker. Shopping bags lay on every horizontal surface, including the floor, and a large see-through bag near the kitchen doorway held a coordinating crib set.

I was speechless.

Tyler nudged me farther into the room, then shut the door. “I probably went a little overboard, but the salesgirl said this stuff will come in handy.”

My breathing became shallow. “How did you—”

“I unloaded it all before you got home. You know, you really should get your locks fixed.”

“Tyler …”

“I never knew a kid needed so much junk.” He took the car seat from me and set it on the floor near a stroller box. Then he lifted a smaller one. “Look at this thing. He sits in it and plays with all these little toys.”

I shook my head. “This is too much. A car seat is one thing.”

“Ty needs it.”

“Ty?” My feet stumbled toward a huge box leaning against the window. A full-size crib that could convert to a toddler bed, dark-stained wood, beautiful. I’d seen it in a magazine at the United. “I can’t accept all this.”

He reached for a box, not acknowledging I had spoken. “I know you’ll like this white bassinet thing. I can set it up for you real quick.”

“No, don’t open it.”

His actions and speech increased in speed. “You’re going to need it as soon as Ty is born. That and the car seat.” He quickly slit the tape with what I thought was a pocketknife, but as he shoved it back in his pocket, I recognized it as a loose razor blade.

“Why are you calling him Ty?”

“If the kid’s not going to have my last name, he might as well have my first. Check out those bags of tiny, little clothes. And shoes. I’ve never seen shoes so small.”

I stepped back. Tyler’s uncontrolled zeal took up too much space in the room, and I felt out of control and sick to my stomach. He pulled parts from the box, still talking, talking, talking, and dread pressed against me with the inescapable force of gravity.

“Tyler, stop.” I inhaled to slow the energy in the room. “I can’t, cannot, take this.”

His smile vanished, his chatter stilled, and he cocked his head at what seemed an unnatural angle. “Can’t or won’t?” He spoke softly, but his words were laced with a threat.

Rowdy barked once and pressed against my legs, and I considered following the dog’s advice and running away. But that was absurd. “You said there wouldn’t be any strings, but this must have cost you hundreds of dollars. I would feel I owed you.”

“More like thousands.” He sorted through hardware, comparing bolts and brackets to a diagram on the instruction sheet. “I’m determined to get this thing set up before I leave.”

The possibility of him staying long enough to assemble the bassinet made me want to cry. “Don’t worry about putting that together. JohnScott can—”

“You shouldn’t keep bothering the coach.” His words were clipped. “That man’s only doing his Christian duty, caring for the widows and orphans—not that you exactly fall into either category—but he’s bound to get tired of coming all the way up here every day.”

“He doesn’t come every day.”

“Well, he practically does.” He let the hardware fall to the floor, and then he shoved the box with his foot.

Tears seeped to the corners of my eyes but remained safely hidden. “You obviously don’t have a very high opinion of JohnScott.”

“I’m sure Coach Pickett means well, but give me a break. He’s out of his league where you’re concerned. Look around you.” He pointed a stiff finger at a stack of boxes. “This is what Ty needs from you.” His eyes held mine for three long seconds, and then he snickered. “Has JohnScott Pickett brought you anything for our son?”

My gaze fell to Rowdy. JohnScott had brought me the dog, but he had brought me so much more than that.

“I didn’t think so.” Tyler lifted his chin and sauntered to the door. “It’s only a matter of time.”

“Until what?”

“Until the coach pitches you on your butt.” His gaze dropped to my stomach before he crooned, “He’s not the type to settle for damaged goods.”