Never Say Never: Gravel Hill Boys Book Two

22. Madison

There was no betterfeeling than that of fine, cool sheets on my bare legs. I stretched and turned, then opened my eyes and for a moment, I couldn’t remember where I was.

Ian. Right.

It took me a few weeks to get up the nerve, but I was here to pacify my grandmother, only my baby decided we needed a nap. I should’ve already said my piece, figured out where Ian stood on becoming a father, then left and checked into my room at the inn where I could’ve napped without inconveniencing anyone, especially Ian.

The room wasn’t as bright as it had been when I’d first lay down. I checked my watch and was surprised to see it was almost six o’clock. “Good grief.” I’d slept for more than three hours. But that mattress… it was the best sleep I’d had in months. Clearly Ian doesn’t skimp on his personal comfort.

Reluctantly, I sat up and dangled my legs over the edge of the bed. It was so high, my feet were at least a foot off the ground. I stretched my arms over my head, leaning one way and then the other. I was about to slide off the bed when I felt a flutter. Just what I needed. Gas. I had a lot to discuss with Ian. It was why I was here in the first place. The last thing I wanted was to have to excuse myself and put our little tête-à-tête off until tomorrow because I was gassy. I felt the flutter again as it moved across the center of my belly. It felt like…butterfly wings. It continued, growing stronger each time.

“Ian?” I called, hoping he’d hear me. When there was no response, I called a little louder.

Nothing. Then louder still.

“Ian?”

Damn. Where’d he go? I couldn’t imagine he’d go out and leave me here alone. “Ian!” I shouted.

The butterfly wings beat stronger.

“Ian! Ian!”

Footsteps pounded up the stairs.

A panicked Ian appeared in the doorway. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Is it the baby?”

“Come here. Hurry.”

He took a few cautious steps like he was afraid I might attack or explode.

“Come. Here.”

When he drew close enough, I grabbed his hand and pressed it to my belly. I could tell he wanted to pull away, but I held tight to his hand and kept it in place.

Of course, my little butterfly wasn’t cooperating.

“What are we doing?” he asked.

“Shh,” I hissed. Why, I had no idea.

Nothing was happening, so I kept hold of Ian’s hand with my right hand and stretched my left over my head like I had earlier.

“Seriously,” he whispered. “What’s going on?”

“The baby,” I answered. Judging by the confused expression on his face, that wasn’t a suitable answer.

“Is it okay?” He pointed at my belly.

“Just wait.”

“For what?”

I stretched my arm high and twisted.

Then it happened. A tiny ripple, like a gas bubble. I watched Ian’s face, but he still looked nothing but confused.

The ripple grew into a flutter, and Ian’s eyebrows drew downward. The flutters continued, until there was one solid kick, and I laughed.

His mouth fell open. His eyes grew wider. I no longer had to hold his hand in place. He pressed gently on my swollen belly. Warm green eyes met mine, full of wonder, and he smiled. Tentatively at first, but the stronger the flutters, the bigger his smile until he was full-on grinning.

“I guess this is what you were hollering about, Miss I-Don’t-Holler.”

I smiled back at him. “I was calling, not hollering.”

His grin was firmly locked in place. “Whatever.”

Ian kept his hand on my belly for another minute or so, but the tiny gymnast had settled down. No matter. I was glad I was finally able to share the feeling of my baby kicking with someone. It was especially nice that the someone was its father.

“That it?” he asked, moving his hand to different parts of my tummy, searching for more movement.

“I think so.”

He removed his hand and I stood. When I swayed, he captured my arms.

The grin faded. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I think so. It’s probably a combination of sleeping too long—sorry about that—and missing lunch. My blood sugar is probably a little low. Then all the excitement with the baby.”

Ian led me to the loveseat at the foot of the bed. “Here. Sit for a minute. We can’t have you falling down the steps.”

“I’m fine.”

“Just sit there. Please.”

I sat while he tidied up the bed. Smoothing the covers and replacing the shams and embroidered pillows even though he’d likely be messing it up again in a few hours. Given the museum-like quality of his home, I couldn’t help but wonder if he might have a little touch of OCD.

“If you’re hungry, I can order in,” he offered after adjusting the last pillow and patting it into place.

“I don’t want to be any trouble. In fact, if you’re available tomorrow, we can talk then. I can head out and check into the inn and then find something to eat.”

He hooked his hands onto his slim hips and frowned down at me. “You just said your blood sugar is low. Let me feed you. And you don’t need to check into a hotel. There’s plenty of room for you to stay.”

I smirked. “Yeah, right. Like I’d want to stay in some uncomfortable guest room when I can have a king size bed all to myself at a beautiful inn, that frankly, rivals your Victorian oasis over here.” I couldn’t help but giggle at his expense, although it was a nice change from the snark and vitriol I’d been lavishing on him.

“You can sleep in here. I’ll take one of the other rooms.”

I hadn’t expected that. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not. I promise. Just don’t holler at me, and we’ll survive one night in the same place.” He nibbled on his bottom lip and grinned. “It’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

I shot him a look.

“Sorry.” He laughed.

I folded my arms across my chest. “You’re not sorry.”

“Not even a little bit.”

He placed his hand on my shoulder and directed me toward the door. “C’mon. I’ve got dozens of menus downstairs. We can order in or go out. Your call. And call the place you were supposed to stay and cancel your reservation. If they charge you, I’ll cover it.”

“I can afford to pay my own cancellation fee.”

“I know, but you don’t have to.”

I scooped up my shoes and followed him into the hall.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “I told you that you can use my room.”

“I know. I also know that I’m crazy for doing this. Regardless, I still have to go out to my rental and get my overnight bag.”

“What kinda tool do you take me for? Jesus, Madison. I know you don’t think very highly of me, but I wouldn’t expect you to go out and get your own suitcase.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine.” I tossed my shoes onto the floor near the bed, and almost laughed at the way he cringed when they almost hit the nightstand. “You can get my suitcase, as long as you understand that I’m fully capable of getting it myself.”

While Ian went out to my rental to retrieve my bag, I sifted through a collection of take-out menus that rivaled my own. Unfortunately, the more I looked at the food offerings, the more difficult it became for me to choose. I finally understood the concept behind an all-you-can-eat buffet—not that I’d ever indulged in one.

“Did you figure out what you want to eat?” Ian asked after bringing my suitcase upstairs.

“Not yet, but I’m starving. I feel like I could eat everything on these menus.”

He laughed out loud. “What are you a size zero? Where would you put all that food?”

Feeling unusually playful in the moment, I rubbed my hand over my stomach. “Right here, in my baby belly. I haven’t gained much weight so far, but I’m always hungry.”

“Let’s get you fed then. Any preferences?”

I considered the options but couldn’t seem to land on one. “Just surprise me.”

“I can do that,” he said, pulling out his phone, while I excused myself to unpack and freshen up for dinner.

“Ian! What the fuck is wrong with you?” The front door slammed and a woman’s voice rang out from the foyer. “If you decided to throw a dinner party at the last minute, you should’ve at least ordered from a restaurant that delivered.”

Muffled footsteps pounded through the downstairs hallway. “And if you expect me to join your little gathering, you’re out of your freaking mind,” she shouted. “I was already in my pajamas when you called, and I wasn’t about to change.”

Did he have a girlfriend? And had he called her to pick up dinner? His love life was none of my business, but the idea wasn’t exactly sitting well with me. Call me nosy, but if this foul-mouthed banshee was going to be my child’s stepmother, didn’t I have a right to know?

I padded down the stairs and through the long hallway leading to the kitchen where I watched and waited from the doorway. Ian leaned casually against the island, arms folded, and an amused expression on his face. Obviously, he delighted in annoying more than just me.

I remained in the doorway as the source of the tirade angrily picked through three boxes piled high with take-out containers. A messy bun sat atop her head, and she was dressed in a raincoat, flannel pajama pants, and wet, fuzzy slippers.

She yanked a drawer open, grabbed a handful of serving utensils, and dropped them with a loud clatter onto the granite countertop. “Do you have any idea how long I had to stand there and wait at the hostess station—in my goddamn pajamas—and wait for your damn order? And because you ordered so much food, I had to make three trips to my car—three, Ian!” She was so fired up she hadn’t noticed me as she continued ranting. “And was I able to park near the restaurant? Of course not. I had to park over on Congress Street. And then it began raining, because, you know, I’m lucky like that. Why the hell else would I be working for you?”

She pulled open one of the cupboards and yanked out a stack of plates and carried them to the island.

“I’m telling you right now, I’m giving myself a bonus in my paycheck next week. A nice, big, fat one. And you’re also buying me new slipp?—”

Her eyes landed on me, and the angry tirade came to an abrupt halt.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Um…” Why was it that Ian’s baby mama was the first thing that popped into my head?

She held up her hand to stop me. “Never mind. None of my business.” Turning an angry gaze on Ian, she demanded, “How many people are here for dinner?”

“Two.”

“Two? You ordered all this food for two people?”

“Well, technically three, but you’re welcome to join us, Bails.”

She pushed her thick, black-framed glasses up her nose and glared at him. “I ate before I got ready for bed. Notice the pajamas.”

I stepped into the room and extended my hand. “I’m Madison, by the way. Madison Enright. I’m his…publicist.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What happened to Liane?”

“Nothing. Liane works for my firm.”

“Gotcha,” she said, although she didn’t look quite sure. “I’m Bailey.” She aimed a thumb at Ian. “I’m his indentured servant, also known as a personal assistant.”

Ian laughed loudly, which seemed dangerous given how irritated the poor woman was.

“It’s nice to meet you, Bailey. And I’m sorry he made you go out. I was under the impression that the food would be delivered.”

She snorted. “Yeah, by yours truly.”

“I’m sorry for your trouble. I hope he makes it up to you.”

“Oh, he will.” She shot Ian another glare. “In addition to that bonus, I might even give myself a raise.”

As comical as I found the situation, this woman wouldn’t last two days in my employ. Of course, I’d never expect her to run out in the evening to pick up dinner. Or handle my checkbook. I had accountants for that, and I could get just about anything I wanted delivered in Philadelphia at almost any time of the day or night. Savannah wasn’t as big as Philadelphia, but it was still a city. Maybe midnight deliveries of H?agen-Dazs didn’t happen, but it was still early enough in the evening that most delivery services would be operating.

Ian pulled linen napkins from a drawer in the island and carried them over to the large mahogany dining table at the other end of the kitchen. “Chillax, Bailey. At least have a drink with us.”

I eyed the multitude of take-out containers, wondering if he intended to transfer the contents of each into serving bowls and platters or if we would be expected to serve ourselves right from the container. Honestly, I was so hungry I was ready to climb onto a stool at the island, grab a fork, and just dig into whichever was nearest, etiquette be damned. “Is there anything I can help you with?” I asked.

“Nah. Some of these containers may have leaked, especially since my irritation got the better of me. There’s no point in you getting anything on that fancy white dress of yours.”

I ran my hand over the white boucle knit shift I was wearing. I had no clue what Ian had ordered—or why he was feeding an army—but I wasn’t about to ruin a thousand-dollar dress.

Bailey’s eyes followed my hand and landed on the small baby bump that had appeared over the last two weeks. She smiled, and when she wasn’t angry or shouting, she was actually quite pretty. I couldn’t help but wonder if there was more between her and Ian than a contentious working relationship.

She jerked her chin in my direction. “Congratulations. When are you due?”

A flush crept up my neck, and I smiled. “Thank you. I’m due in early December.”

“Cool. Too bad it wasn’t later. You could’ve had a New Year’s baby. If your baby’s the first delivered on New Year’s Day, you can win some awesome shit, depending on the hospital of course. You’re up in Philly, right? Bet you could win one hell of a haul up there,” she said as she went back to sorting the mountain of food. “My niece was the first baby born in the new year back home in Indiana. She won a savings account from the local bank with a hundred dollars in it. My sister, her husband, and the baby were on the front page of the newspaper and everything.” She chuckled. “There’s some publicity for you, right?”

Dear God. That would be the last thing I’d want, to be splashed across the front of the Philadelphia Inquirer with the story touting that I’d won a savings account and a month’s supply of diapers. An Enright? I’d become a laughingstock.

I offered a practiced smile before I responded, “That would be something, wouldn’t it?”