Chapter 2
two
Cordy stared at the new email on her phone.
This week, your baby is the size of a honeydew melon!
Reed had signed her up for these weekly pregnancy update emails as a joke. It had been his way of connecting with her over this baby—he hadn’t been expecting to be a dad for a long time, if ever. His initial reaction to her announcement had been stunned shock. But Reed had done his best to step up once he’d gotten over the surprise.
Honestly, Cordy hadn’t been ready for a baby either. She’d never considered starting a family, not with her lifestyle. You couldn’t have anything permanent if you moved yearly like she did.
When she’d seen the positive line on the pregnancy test, her first thought had been, I can’t.
But as the blank shock wore off, something bigger and bolder took its place—a sense of expansiveness she only ever felt when she saw something wondrous and new. And this time, that magical thing was growing inside her.
Had Cordy’s mom felt the same when she found out she was pregnant? Cordy had no idea because Melissa Johnson had never talked about Cordy’s babyhood. Once a moment was gone, Mom wasn’t the type to bring it up again.
As that awesome feeling unfurled inside Cordy, her I can’t had changed to I must. I will.
So Cordy did some stepping up, too. But she’d turned down Reed’s suggestion they move in together. He was only doing it thanks to pressure from his parents, and they would never do well in the same house. Living with her lovers just wasn’t Cordy’s thing. She needed her own space.
Reed was relieved when she’d told him no. They’d begun discussing how to raise the baby in separate households and might have figured this co-parenting thing out… if Reed hadn’t died.
These baby update emails felt like Reed reaching out from the afterlife, still trying to connect with the baby he’d helped make. A baby he’d never meet.
Cordy swallowed hard, fighting back the ever-present grief. She closed her email and opened her text messages, staring at the one she’d sent to Reed’s parents a week ago.
The baby is the size of a pineapple! He (or she) likes to kick first thing in the morning. They are already waking me up early!
After Reed’s death, she’d started sending these messages to his parents. It had felt like a natural way to share this pregnancy with them. She’d also sent the ultrasound pictures, telling them that the baby was waving in some.
The Saxons had responded at first, a thank you here and there. But about four weeks after Reed had died, they’d stopped.
Cordy’s hand tightened around the phone until the edges cut into her palm. It was their grandbaby; surely they would want to know what was happening? But their continuing silence spoke loud and clear—they didn’t care.
So why wasn’t Cordy running out of Star Crossed Springs to someplace new like she usually did?
Probably because Reed had talked so much about the baby being born in the same town he’d been, how wonderful his childhood had been, how excited he was to raise his kid here, too.
Cordy hadn’t understood where he was coming from, not with her childhood. Her parents had never been together—Bodhi Brooks, her dad, hadn’t even been at Cordy’s birth—and hadn’t stayed in any one place for more than a year. Cordy was always moving, whether she was with Mom or Dad. Most of the time, her parents weren’t even on the same continent, and they’d done just fine at co-parenting.
If her parents could do it, then Cordy and Reed could figure it out. Except they’d never had the chance.
Cordy set the phone down on the counter and rubbed at the marks in her palm. She wanted to send the text. She wanted her baby’s grandparents to meet her like a human being, not an incubator. But she was also tired of being hurt like this.
Her gaze fell on the postcard from Estonia stuck to the fridge, sent by her friend Scottie, who was living there. Scottie said it was a fantastic place with tons of jobs.
Cordy had never been to the Baltics, but Scottie made it sound amazing. Cordy planned to go there once she was tired of Star Crossed Springs, but then she took that pregnancy test, and everything had changed.
For once in her life, Cordy was staying put.
She wanted Reed’s child to be born where he had been, and changing doctors in the middle of the pregnancy scared her. Until the baby arrived, Cordy was committed to Star Crossed Springs.
But raising the baby here…? Cordy didn’t know about that. If Reed’s family wouldn’t even text her back, what was the point? Her baby wouldn’t get the same cozy childhood Reed had, that was for sure. Not when everyone viewed Cordy as an outsider, especially Reed’s family.
What would happen if she sat in the Parents’ Corner, one more pregnant lady in the middle of half a dozen? Would they welcome her like an old friend? Or would they do that fake polite thing to hide how much they wanted her to simply go away?
Cordy wanted to find out… and she didn’t at the same time.
The phone rang. She practically jumped out of her skin, sweat breaking out on her forehead, even though she was staring at the darn screen.
She frowned at the unknown local number on the display. Was it spam or something important? Odds were always fifty-fifty in these cases.
Cordy glanced at her pet greyhound, Iggy, asleep on the couch. His brindle coloring made him look like someone had tried to draw a tiger crossed with a dog, and he was the result.
“Should I answer it, Iggs?”
Iggy half-opened one eye in answer. He was so lazy he’d make a sloth look hyper, and Cordy loved him like mad.
“Is that a yes or a no?”
Iggy closed his eye again.
“Thanks for the help.” She plopped down next to him on the couch, letting his hind end drape over her lap. Iggy sighed but kept sleeping. Despite her doubts, she picked up the call. “Hello?”
“Cordy.”
It was a man, with a deep, smooth voice that made her pulse pick up. But she couldn’t place who he was, although he clearly knew her.
“Yes?”
“You need my help.”
Her spine went melty. I do need help.
Since taking the pregnancy test, Cordy had tried to be strong. To keep it all together. But the closer she got to her baby’s due date, the harder everything got. With only four weeks left in her pregnancy, sometimes things felt impossible. If she could put some burdens on the shoulders of this man with the gorgeous voice, maybe take a nice long nap, it would be good. She wanted to so badly.
Slowly, she made her resolve stiffen. Cordy didn’t even know who this person was. He was probably selling something. Her parents had raised her to rely solely on herself, and this whole pregnancy situation only proved how right they’d been.
“I don’t think so,” Cordy said.
Iggy’s ears pricked up at her tone. She ought to hang up, stop wasting her time.
“Really? I’ve got your ad here.”
“What?” She’d only put it up five minutes ago. If only Chance hadn’t smacked into her and distracted her from tearing the ad down…
“I’m outside. Let me up so we can talk about this. I’ve got donuts for you.”
The identity of that voice clicked into place as she went to the window. The frame stuck, and she had to shove it hard to open it. One of these days, she was afraid she’d have to push so hard she’d fall right out of it.
When she put her head out, sure enough, there was Chance Kessal on the sidewalk, one thumb hooked casually into his belt loop. He looked like a tall drink of water, the kind with condensation dripping down the glass on a hot day. The kind you wanted to gulp down as fast as you could.
“Not you.” It popped out of Cordy’s mouth.
Chance’s eyes narrowed. “Why not?”
The words echoed through the speaker on her phone. Right, the call was still connected, and they were yelling at each other in the street. In a town this small, someone was sure to come along and ask what the heck they were doing.
Cordy supposed since Chance had answered the ad, she owed him an explanation.
“Come up,” Cordy said with a sigh. “It’s unlocked.”
“That’s not safe.” Chance looked dangerously close to a frown.
“It’s Star Crossed Springs. Who’s going to rob me? Besides, I’ve got a guard dog.”
Cordy popped back inside. Her “guard dog” had rolled onto his back, legs in the air like a dead cockroach. Very intimidating.
“Keep up the good work,” she told Iggy dryly.
She opened the door as Chance, a paper bag clutched in his fist, was coming up the steps. He took them two at a time. Dark blue denim hugged his long legs and strained over his thighs. Heat flushed through her.
Tomcat , Cordy reminded herself. She was going to politely refuse his help—he would not become her indoor cat.
“I don’t hear any dog,” he said as he neared the door.
“Iggy doesn’t bark.”
Chance frowned. “Then how is he a guard dog? Is he actually a cat?”
“Ooh, don’t say that. You’ll hurt his feelings.” Cordy stepped back to let Chance in.
Her attic apartment was funky, with weird angles and odd nooks. The kitchen was a stove, fridge, and sink along one wall, while her bed was cordoned off with some fancy screens from a store in Fordsville. The bathroom was the only actual room in the place.
The place was squat, a little claustrophobic with the roof dipping in, but Cordy loved it. What it lacked in size, it made up for in charm. She preferred homes with imperfect personalities rather than luxurious blandness. And the commute was a short walk downstairs to the Swing Inn.
After a childhood spent roaming the world with her parents, she’d learned to roll with the punches, including the less-than-ideal parts of this apartment. Like the window she was going to fall out of one of these days.
“Huh.” Chance took it all in. “I like those screens. When Justin lived here, he had the bed out in the open. Used it as a sofa and dining table, too.”
Justin was Glenn Wallen’s son, and Glenn owned the Swing Inn. Justin had moved away to Denner’s Pass, so Glenn had been advertising for a new bartender when Cordy applied for the job. The apartment came with the job—it had been the perfect opportunity.
“You knew Justin?” she asked. “I never met him. He doesn’t come often to visit.” Much to Glenn’s loud displeasure.
“Oh yeah. Everyone here knows everyone else, either from school or 4-H or sports, or they’re siblings of someone you did all that with. Or their parents.”
Which was why Cordy was the odd one out here. Reed was the guy who’d been in their class or 4-H or played baseball with them. People’s loyalty was to him, not her.
She assumed Chance’s loyalty was to Reed, too. Not that Chance was ever rude to her when he came into the Swing Inn. He always had a smile and a wink for her, same as he did for everyone. A smile and a wink, but not much more. It wasn’t like they were friends.
Yet here he was, in her apartment, ready to be her birth coach. She never would have guessed he was the kind of guy to do that. Quite the opposite—tomcats weren’t known for their selfless natures.
Wait, so why was he here? Some kind of lingering loyalty to Reed? Or something else?
Cordy’s eyes narrowed. Her parents had told her she could only trust herself—which meant she couldn’t trust anyone else. Chance was the king of one-night stands, but Cordy wouldn’t be one of his conquests. If that’s what this was even about.
She put a hand to the swell of her belly. A deep instinct had the hairs on the back of her neck rising. She had to protect the baby.
Not noticing her suspicions, Chance handed her the bag. “Two strawberry shortcake donuts. Liberty said they were your favorites.”
Cordy peered into the bag, at a loss for words. “You brought me donuts?”
“You don’t like those?”
She closed the bag against her chest. “No, I do.” She’d never guess Liberty knew what her favorites were. Or that Chance would have taken the time to bring them to her.
Chance pointed at Iggy. The dog had roused himself enough to lift his head and eyeball Chance. “This is your guard dog? He’s doing a great impression of a limp noodle.”
“Iggy’s more of a lover, not a fighter.” Cordy realized that described Chance, too. She set the donut bag on the kitchen counter to free up her hands. “Can I have my flyer back? I meant to take it down.”
Chance didn’t hand it over. Cordy stared him down, her hand out. His eyes were the most remarkable shade of brown. The Swing Inn’s low lights were good for hiding flaws, but also eyes like his.
Her mouth curled because Cordy loved stuff like this. Seeing things she never had before, meeting new people, learning about them. It was why she moved around so much. There was so much to see. And why she was still a bartender after all these years. It was the best way to meet people she’d ever found.
His eyes were mesmerizing—just the most gorgeous color.
Chance put the flyer in her hand and broke the spell. “What do you need a birth coach for?”
Cordy set it aside, wondering how much to tell Chance. She had to give him something, even if she wasn’t accepting his offer. “Um, the hospital won’t let me take the class without a partner.”
“You can’t ask someone to go with you?”
“I don’t feel comfortable asking anyone I know.” That was a problem with being rootless—no one to call on when you were in her situation. Not that she’d ever expected anything like this. “So I figured I’d see if anyone might take it on as a job. For pay.”
Chance narrowed his eyes. “You have to take this class, don’t you? Why? The hospital isn’t requiring it, are they?”
Well, that was very direct. And very insightful.
Cordy hesitated. It wasn’t any of Chance’s business, but she was tired of carrying this alone. Her parents preached self-sufficiency, but they’d never been in her situation. If Mom had needed him, Dad would have been there. Probably.
Still, Cordy pressed her lips together tightly. Tried to put some steel into her spine. It was habit from all the times her parents had taken her someplace new, where she knew no one and didn’t even speak the language but was expected to adapt immediately. And mostly, her parents were right—once Cordy got over her initial shock, she always enjoyed herself. She loved the new, the unknown.
But this was too much. Her body refused to obey her.
She collapsed on the couch with a sigh, and Iggy set his head on her thigh. Cordy rubbed his precious face, grateful she had such a love bug here. If she was going to confess, she might as well be comfortable.
“Okay.” She stared Chance straight in the eye. “Here’s the deal, and I’d appreciate it if you kept it to yourself.”
“I don’t kiss and tell,” he said with utter seriousness.
She knew that. Somehow, that made her feel better. He might be a tomcat, but he had his own peculiar sense of honor.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she said baldly. Her face flamed as she said it.
He frowned. “Wait, about the baby? But it’s not even here yet.”
Her shoulders slumped. Of course he didn’t understand. He probably learned everything he knew from his amazing, caring, upright parents, following right in his father’s footsteps.
Cordy took a deep breath. “I’ve got a baby on the way, the father is gone, my mom isn’t here, and I have no idea what I’m doing.”
Getting it all out felt strange. Like she’d emptied her purse but still couldn’t find what was missing.
“So…” Cordy knotted her hands together. “I took all the classes. Like, all of them. Infant CPR, newborn care, breastfeeding, infant sleep, maternal aftercare, supporting your infant’s development…” She counted on her fingers. “I think I’m missing one, but you get the point. The labor and delivery class is the only one I need a partner for.”
Chance frowned, more puzzled than judging. “That’s a lot of classes. Your mom… she’s not coming when the baby’s born?”
Cordy had to look away. She swallowed hard, fighting her reaction. Okay, maybe her family was out of the ordinary, but nothing was wrong with them. “My mom doesn’t even know I’m pregnant. She’s been in Mongolia for the past year, and there’s no way to contact her.” She made herself lift her chin. “I’m going to be a good mom. I will . And these classes are helping me learn.” She snapped her fingers. “Oh! Baby massage and baby wearing. I forgot that one.”
“There’s a whole class on that?”
“Oh, there’s so much you don’t know. Babies need a lot of… of everything.”
“They don’t just need a crib and the boob?”
Cordy choked out a laugh. Chance looked so confused, about as confused as she’d felt when she’d first seen the list of classes.
“It’s an entire human that can’t fend for itself. And the crib is on order,” she said before he could ask. “I’ll baby-proof the entire place next weekend.”
“I’m not here to judge you.” He grabbed a chair from the dining table and sat down. The man could sprawl magnificently. “You… you can’t ask Hailey? I mean, she’s Reed’s sister. Or ask Reed’s mom?”
The ever-present guilt in her stomach bit at her, even though Cordy knew it wasn’t her fault. “They’re, uh… they’re not talking to me.” She shrugged. “The Saxons miss Reed. They’re grieving.”
“That’s a piss-poor excuse,” Chance snapped, sitting upright. “They ought to be doing everything they can for you. Especially since you’re on your own.”
Cordy’s eyes and nose started to sting. She put her hand on Iggy’s head, trying to get a hold of her emotions. But it was so hard because this was the first time in this whole mess it felt like someone was on her side. She had to keep the peace with the Saxons because they were the grandparents of her baby, and everyone in town felt sympathy for them because they’d lost their only son, and she was a newcomer, a stranger, and it was difficult. So difficult.
Hearing Chance’s words made her realize how badly she needed someone to tell her she deserved better. That the Saxons shouldn’t be doing this to her.
That she shouldn’t be doing all this alone.
Chance grabbed a tissue from the box on the coffee table and handed it to her. She took it with a murmured thanks.
He let her dab her eyes and take some deep breaths. Then he said, “If people knew what Reed’s parents were doing?—”
“Please don’t tell anyone.” The words spilled out faster than her tears. “I don’t… I don’t need that kind of drama.”
“You need my help.”
Again, her knees went weak. Thank goodness she was already sitting down. “I appreciate the offer,” she said, “I honestly do, but…”
“But what?”
Now was not the time to explain her tomcat theory to him. Part of Cordy wanted to say yes. To let him help because she craved it so badly. But that would be a bad idea. Chance wasn’t the kind of guy she could rely on. Which brought up her original question.
“Why are you even offering?” she asked. “You are the last person I expected to answer that ad.”
If he had some notion of getting into her bed, she was going to shoot that right down.
His mouth flattened. Chance looked as close to pissed as she’d ever seen. “Because I wouldn’t help someone in need?”
That made her back stiffen. He made her sound pitiful. Like she was an abandoned animal by the side of the road. Okay, she felt wretched, but not that wretched.
“Because you don’t have any kids. You aren’t married. You don’t have a girlfriend. You have no interest in getting one. You’re…” She gestured wildly because he had to know what he was like. He was the one going home with a new woman each night. “You’re the opposite of what I want.”
Chance hadn’t moved at all, but Cordy sensed the tension in him. It snapped off him like power lines humming. She wasn’t afraid, but it was making her tingle. Chance was always so easygoing; she must have hit a sore spot.
“What you want is Reed?” Chance asked in a quiet, steady voice. “That’s who you wanted to settle down with? That’s the kind of man you thought would be in it for the long haul?”
Cordy wrapped her hands around her belly, needing to put something between Chance and the baby. He made Reed sound like… well, like the kind of man Chance was. It wasn’t fair—neither she nor Reed had been looking for commitment, but their relationship hadn’t been casual.
“You have no right to judge him. Or me. We at least spent more than one night together.”
Chance’s mouth tightened. Somehow, that made his lips even more attractive. “Now, who’s judging?” he drawled in a nasty tone.
“You came to me,” she said. “And I’m turning you down. That must be a novel experience for you. I’ll give you a moment to process it before I ask you to leave.”
To her surprise, that got him smiling. “All right. I hear you.”
Argh , his smile was not supposed to make her pulse flutter like that! She’d seen it a million times and knew he used it to get into a woman’s bed.
She had to get him out of there before she did something stupid thanks to that smile. She stood up and nodded toward the door. “I appreciate the offer,” she said stiffly, “but I’ll figure something out. I always do.”
Chance got to his feet, his expression grim. “Will you? Because putting up an ad in the Donut Palace isn’t figuring it out .”
Cordy crossed her arms. Well, that was rude. She was already sorry she’d told him anything.
Next to her, Iggy stood up on the couch. The short hairs on the back of his neck rose. He was watching Chance with a sharp eye.
Aww, he was a guard dog after all! Good old Iggy.
Cordy held the dog as she watched Chance walk to the door. He paused with it half-open and looked over his shoulder at her.
“How will you find a partner then?” he asked.
“You don’t have to worry about that,” she said coolly. “But again, thank you for offering.”
For a moment, Chance seemed ready to keep arguing with her.
Her mouth went dry. His unwavering gaze said he wasn’t giving up on her. Current raced up her spine.
But luckily, he left without another word.
After the door closed, Cordy sank into the couch. Her emotions rode close to the surface these days, and that had been intense. In more ways than one.
You need my help. His deep voice was clear as day in her memory. Despite her resolve, her stomach knotted. God, it would be nice to have some help.
But she’d have to make do without it, same as she always had.
The bag of donuts sat on the counter, the scent of warm strawberry icing filling the air. Cordy stared at it for a long moment before getting up and taking it back to the couch. No sense wasting good donuts.
She slowly ate them, her dog snuggled close, and pondered what the heck she was going to do next.