The Bachelor's Little Bonus

She smiled. “Annoying associates?”

“To quote my late country grandpa, a couple of them were as dumb as a bag of rocks.”

That made her laugh. She always loved it when Cole quoted his “country grandpa,” who had apparently been a treasury of old adages. “Knowing you, I’m sure you were completely polite and patient with them.”

“I don’t know how patient I was, but I tried not to tell them what I really thought. They didn’t even try to pay attention half the time, then complained because they missed a few important points. It gets frustrating. Which is one of the main reasons I prefer telecommuting to pointless meetings and endless deliberations.”

As a busy kitchen designer, Stevie knew all about frustrating collaborations. “Totally understand. There are plenty of times I want to dump a pitcher of ice water over a superpicky client or a lazy subcontractor.”

He chuckled. “I’m sure you’re able to sweet-talk all of them into seeing things your way. That’s a talent I don’t have.”

She had to concede that no one would describe Cole as a “sweet talker.” Or a talker at all, for that matter. Still, when he did speak, he always had something interesting and thoughtful to contribute. She’d consulted him several times about perplexing business issues, and had valued his measured, practical advice.

Biting her lip, she wondered what he would say if she confided her current, very personal predicament. She clenched her fingers in her lap.

Cole cleared his throat. She glanced up to find him studying her face with those too-knowing eyes. “Your food is getting cold,” he said quietly.

Had he sensed somehow that she’d hovered on the verge of another meltdown? Either way, his reminder had been just what she’d needed to bring her back from the edge. Gripping her spoon so tightly her knuckles whitened, she concentrated on the soup and the cheese and crackers he’d served with it. In an attempt to keep him—and maybe herself—diverted, she talked as she ate, babbling away about anything that randomly occurred to her.

Seeming to have little trouble following her rapid changes of topic, Cole finished his meal then pulled a bag of cookies from the pantry for dessert. She declined the offer, finishing her rapidly cooling soup between sentences while he munched a couple of Oreos.

When he finished, he carried his dishes to the sink, sidestepping the cat munching kibble from a bowl on the floor. Stevie helped him clear the table, smiling up at him as they reached at the same time to close the dishwasher door.

“Thank you, Cole.”

“For the soup? Wasn’t any trouble, I just warmed it up. You actually made it.”

She gave him a fondly chiding look. “Not for the soup, though I guess I needed that. Mostly, thanks for the company and conversation. I needed that even more tonight.”

Wiping his hands, he turned to face her with a slight smile on his firm lips. “I didn’t say much.”

“I didn’t give you much chance.”

“Well, no, but I’m used to that.”

She giggled, pleased to feel like laughing now, even at her own expense. She reached up to pat his cheek. “Are you calling me a chatterbox?”

“Just stating facts.” His rare, full grin lit his eyes and carved long dimples around his mouth. Tousled and scruffy after his long day, he looked...well, adorable. His evening beard tickled her palm, and the warmth of his skin tempted her to nestle closer to his solid strength to alleviate her own nervous chill.

A bit unnerved by the impulse, she dropped her hand quickly and laced her fingers together. This was not the time to be distracted by the physical attraction that had always underscored her friendship with Cole, an attraction she’d always assured herself she had very good reasons to keep private.

“You’ve been traveling all day,” she said, rallying her inner defenses and taking a step back. “I’m sure you’re tired. I should go and let you relax.”

“There’s no rush. We could stream a movie or something. I think I have some popcorn.”

Her smile felt a little tremulous. He was being so sweetly concerned about her, even though he hadn’t a clue what was troubling her. He’d probably looked forward to crashing on his couch or bed when he’d returned from his business trip. Instead, he’d found himself preparing dinner for a surprise guest and offering to entertain her even longer in case she was still reluctant to return to her own empty house. Was it any wonder she considered him one of her dearest friends?

“Thanks, Cole, but I think I’ll just turn in early.”

He frowned. “What if your power goes out tonight? With the layer of ice underneath this snow, it’s a definite possibility.”

“I have plenty of blankets to snuggle under, a couple of good flashlights, and a gas stovetop for heating water for tea.”

“Your phone is charged?”

“Almost completely. And I’ll plug it in as soon as I get home.”

He nodded, though he didn’t look entirely reassured.

She slid her hands down her sides in a nervous gesture. “So...”

Just as Cole wasn’t much of a “talker,” he wasn’t much of a “toucher,” either. Casual hugs and pats didn’t come naturally to him, the way they did for her. He never seemed to mind being on the receiving end, though he’d once teased her about patting his cat goodnight, then doing the same to him as she’d prepared to leave.

So, it surprised her a little when he rested a hand on her shoulder as he gazed somberly into her eyes. “You know, Stevie, I’m not much of a conversationalist, but you’ve told me more than once that I’m a very good listener. And I’m your friend. If there’s anything at all I can do for you, I hope you’d feel comfortable telling me.”

Though she tried to hold on to her composure, all it took was a slight squeeze of his fingers to make her eyes fill with tears. To her consternation, sobs burst from her chest as an overtaxed emotional dam finally gave way, and there seemed to be nothing she could do to stop them.

After only a heartbeat’s hesitation, Cole stepped forward and gathered her into his arms. He patted her back somewhat awkwardly, a bewildered male response that only made her cry harder.

“Stevie, tell me. What’s wrong?”

“I’m—” She choked, then blurted out, “I’m pregnant.”

* * *

Cole’s hand froze in midpat. Of all the answers he had imagined, that was the lowest on his list.

Her voice muffled by his shoulder, she spoke in a flood of jumbled words interspersed with gulping sobs. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I haven’t told anyone, not even my best friends. This has been building up for weeks, ever since I first suspected I was pregnant, but I didn’t want to even think about it. I tried to believe it was just stress or miscalculation, but it’s real, and now I’m almost three months along. Joe moved to Austin and I’m pretty sure he has another girlfriend there already. He said he doesn’t want a kid and he’d be a terrible father, anyway. I’m not even brokenhearted about the breakup because it wasn’t working out and neither of us was really happy. Still, my brother and I grew up without our fathers and I always said I’d never do that to a child and I can’t believe I was so stupid at my age. I’ll do my best to give my baby a happy childhood. I mean, I turned out okay, right? But the weather was terrible tonight and I was home all alone and I just wanted company, even if it was only your cat,” she finished in a soft wail.

He followed the tangled monologue, but just barely. It was a lot of information to digest in a very short amount of time. Fortunately, interpreting massive amounts of data was what he did every day. Stevie was three months pregnant. Joe was out of the picture. Stevie planned to raise the child alone. And she was obviously scared spitless.

Because a calm tone usually trumped overwrought emotion, he asked, “Have you seen a doctor?”

She nodded into his shoulder. “Twice.”

“Are you okay? Healthy?”

Her sniffles slowed and she bobbed her head again. “Both of us are.”

Both. He swallowed at the reminder that he wasn’t holding just Stevie. He couldn’t think of anything reassuring to say, so he fell back on practicality. Reaching around her, he snagged a paper towel from the counter and offered it to her. “I don’t have a clean handkerchief on me, but maybe you could make use of this?”

His prosaic offer seemed to jolt her out of her meltdown. She made what appeared to be a heroic attempt to get her emotions under control. When she raised her head slowly to look at him, her wet, vivid blue eyes looked huge against her pale skin. She clutched his shirt in both fists as though anchoring herself in a whirlwind. Drawing a deep, unsteady breath, she relaxed her grip, carefully smoothed his crumpled shirt and stepped out of his arms. He hovered close. She still looked fragile enough to collapse at his feet.

“I, um—” It seemed to annoy her that her words were interrupted by a little catch of her breath. She cleared her throat and said, “I’m sorry I fell apart on you. The words just started flooding out and I couldn’t stop them.”

“You needed to unload,” he said simply.

“I guess you’re right,” she said after a few moments. “Like I said, I haven’t told anyone except Joe and my doctor. I just... I didn’t know what to say.”