The Late Bloomer's Baby

She eyed his bottle of beer. She’d never been much of a drinker, but at the moment she wanted something to steady her nerves. “I’d drink one of those.”

“Really?”

She nodded.

He raised his eyebrows, then got up and went to the bar. Soon, he returned with two open beers—a fresh one for himself and one for her.

She tipped the bottle to her mouth, wrinkling her nose at the first taste, then took a longer drink. The beer’s cold bitterness soothed her dry throat. After another drink, she set the bottle on the table and gazed at him. “It’s been nice to see you, Ethan. But after we talk tonight, you should go home and forget about me and my sisters.”

He scowled, but he didn’t say anything.

“Our relationship is over,” Callie added. “I can’t think of a single reason for us to spend time together.”

“You’re serious.”

“Absolutely.”

“You must have a jealous boyfriend.”

Callie stared at him. She hadn’t thought of lying about an involvement, but his presumption could be lucky. “Well, I have gone on with my life,” she said.

“Then I guess this is a good time to talk,” he said. “I’ve also been dating. The woman’s name is LeeAnn Chambers, and she works as a secretary and moonlights as a fiddle player for the River’s Bend music group. You heard of them?”

Oh, Lord. He had a girlfriend? Callie didn’t want to hear a name, and she most certainly didn’t want details. “No, I haven’t,” she said. She picked up her drink, realized her fingers were shaking and gripped the bottle more firmly. After another long swig, she glared at Ethan as he continued to talk about LeeAnn.

Plunking the drink on the table, Callie looped her hair behind her ears and fixed a stare past his head. Maybe an act of disinterest would make him stop rattling on about this woman.

He did stop.

And he grabbed Callie’s left hand. “You’re still wearing your wedding ring?” he asked, his expression incredulous.

Damn. She’d forgotten about the ring.

She wore it mostly for convenience. Whenever she took Luke out in public, people approached her to comment on her baby’s dimpled grin or thick hair or bright eyes. She wanted those folks to picture him with a perfect home life, with parents devoted to each other and to him.

The way she’d imagined her life with Ethan.

But part of her reason, too, was that she hadn’t found the heart to remove it. The impossibility of a reconciliation didn’t keep her from clinging to that old dream, as if it were a long-comatose loved one on life support.

She couldn’t tell Ethan any of this.

“I don’t think about it,” she said, shrugging. “But I’ve always thought it was pretty.”

“Your boyfriend doesn’t mind?”

Callie held Ethan’s gaze for an endless time. When the floor didn’t swallow her up, chair, beer and all, she decided she’d have to keep talking to him.

She couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

Ethan tipped up his beer, finishing it, then said, “You don’t have a boyfriend at all, do you?”

She shrugged.

“You’re trying to evade men’s interest,” he said. “You’re using the ring as protection.”

He wasn’t too far off target, and his words hurt because he knew her so well.

He knew her so well, yet he’d left her.

“It’s none of your business, is it?” she said. “It’s my ring. Go away and let me live my life.”

Callie got up and wound her way through the crowd. As soon as she’d left the bar, she broke into a jog. She’d almost made it to the car when he caught her elbow.

“Let go of me, Ethan.”

He did, and she turned around. She hoped he’d attribute her flush to anger rather than humiliation. Women who were over their exes didn’t wear the man’s ring, did they? Her mother hadn’t worn her father’s. Here Callie was, the woman Ethan had left, wearing his wedding ring two years later. He’d suggested that she wore it to hide from other men, but he might also wonder if she was pining away for him. She could hardly explain that she wore it for their baby’s sake, damn it.

“I just want to know why,” he said. His attention traveled from her eyes to her mouth to her neck.

Her blush flowed downward, until she was hot everywhere.

“Why, Callie?”

Sweet heaven, she couldn’t think when he looked at her that way.

She didn’t want to think.

She had so much to lose if she got involved with him again. Why not kiss him one last time—really kiss him—while she had the chance?

She grabbed his T-shirt and tugged him nearer.

Before his chiseled lips touched hers, he parted them. He tasted sexy, like cold beer and hot, wild seduction. As his warm breath flowed into Callie’s mouth, the reminder of their lusty early days hit her, hard.

Her knees wobbled. Her breasts ached. Her womb opened.

She wanted nothing more than for Ethan to touch her, long and lovingly, everywhere she ached.

That could never happen again.

Still, she didn’t move away from him. The unaccustomed alcohol in her system had probably made her reckless. It also didn’t help that they were standing in the same parking lot where she’d first learned how to love a boy in every way. His hands settled low on her hips, and she leaned into him. She’d always loved it when he pulled her to him and flaunted his body’s need for her.

But this time, he propelled her backward.

His expression showed confusion, but Callie could still feel his passion down to her bones. She could still see it in the flash of his eyes and in his quick, deep breaths.

Man, she’d missed that look.

In the end, when they were battling over everything from laundry duties to where they should live, she’d stopped seeing any signs he wanted her. She’d thought his desire was gone forever.