Chapter Thirty
Alan
I saw the gold Buick the minute I stepped onto the sidewalk with Ruthie’s car seat in my hand.
“I thought you told him not to come?”
Jess had a death grip on the diaper bag and a panicked look on her face.
“I did.”
“Then we’re just going to assume he’s here for a croissant and keep walking.”
Fuck that guy.
He better stay in his car if he knows what’s good for him.
I made sure to make—and maintain—eye contact with him while I put one hand on the small of Jess’s back and guided her toward Brian’s Silverado. For good measure, I added a scowl and glared at him when we walked in front of his car.
He must have gotten my point because he never got out.
He did, however, follow us once we started the drive to the farmhouse.
Maybe he thought Jess’s dad would back him up once we got there.
After my conversation with Ed earlier, I doubted it. But even if the two men did decide to team up and try their luck, I wasn’t worried—at least not for my safety. I could handle myself just fine against two middle-aged men. My only concern was Jess and Ruthie getting caught in the chaos.
As Jessica studied the side-view mirror, she asked, “Is Mr. Roberts following us?”
I could hear the worry in her voice and wanted to pull the truck to the side right then, take her in my arms, and make her feel safe.
I made a show of glancing into the rearview mirror, like I hadn’t known he’d been behind us since we’d left the bakery.
“Huh; it looks like it.”
“You don’t think he’s going to do anything stupid, do you?”
“I hope not. But I promise I won’t let him hurt you or Ruthie.”
Her whole body turned when she snapped her gaze to look at me head-on.
“You think he’d hurt me? Or Ruthie?”
Shit.
I didn’t want to scare her, so I tried to downplay my concerns. “No. I just meant he might take a swing at me, and if he does, I’ll make sure you and Ruthie are out of harm’s way.”
She relaxed against the seat and murmured, “He’d be stupid to try and fight you.”
“Probably.” I took my eyes off the road to look at her. “But I wouldn’t blame him.”
****
Jessica
“Why not?”
“You’re worth fighting for.”
A kaleidoscope of butterflies erupted in my belly, and I pressed my lips together to hide my smile.
He thought I was worth fighting for.
Was this guy really going to marry me?
Loser frat boys or balding, middle-aged men were the type of men attracted to me, not hot Marines turned homebuilders.
It felt too good to be true, and I reminded myself that he was just doing this because he felt sorry for me.
Alan turned into the driveway, and Kevin pulled in right behind us, but parked closer to the pole barn than the house. He waited until we were walking toward the front door before he got out.
Alan carried Ruthie’s car seat while I had her diaper bag draped over my shoulder and in my hands, a blueberry pie I’d baked that afternoon. Lainey had said we could have it, but Alan insisted on paying her for it.
This time when Mama came onto the front porch, she greeted Alan with a smile. It was a far cry from the glare she’d given him yesterday.
“Welcome!” she called as we neared the porch, then looked startled when she noticed Kevin marching toward the house. “Kevin? What are you doing here?”
I could feel the energy emanating from Alan’s body, yet he remained still and mute when Kevin replied, “I came to find out why my future-wife and daughter are riding in a car alone with this man.”
I was instantly pissed off, on so many levels.
One—I’d never agreed to marry him. Heck, he hadn’t even asked me so I could turn him down, and yet he thought he had some claim on me.
Two—Ruthie was not his future daughter, nor would she ever be.
And last, I was twenty-two-freaking-years-old. I could ride in a car with whomever I wanted! I didn’t owe him or anyone else an explanation.
Okay, that last one was debatable since my parents did have a say in that. In that moment, I realized it was only because I’d let them.
I must have been feeling brave because I was just about to give the man what for, when my mother replied, “It only made sense since he’s our guest for dinner.”
Kevin’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “You invited him to dinner?”
“Well, Ed did.”
He walked up the steps and snarled, “Is that so?” as he passed by Mama. Without another word, he yanked the screen door open and barged into the house, uninvited, ahead of all of us.
Mama waited on the porch for Alan, Ruthie, and me. Before walking inside the house, she murmured softly, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
Yeah. Not marrying Kevin.
Alan gave me a reassuring smile and a small wink as I walked past him.
I was either about to be disowned—in which case, Alan wouldn’t need to marry me, or engaged to Alan.
I guess I’d find out in a minute which it was.