Chapter 1
Chapter One
Not Pregnant/January
“Oh my. He’s quite a hottie, isn’t he?”
Startled, Andromeda “Andie” Billings turned to face the speaker. Brittany Jenkins. Andie recognized her as the clerk from the Quickie Mart on the coastal highway and as the oldest of the Jenkins siblings.
Andie had taught the youngest sibling in one of her English classes at Sandy Shores High School last year, so Brittany couldn’t be more than early twenties.
Andie glanced across the dance floor to see the man who’d captured the young woman’s attention.
There was one man slouched against the bar, chatting with the bartender. Surely Brittany didn’t mean…
Frowning, Andie asked for verification. “Who?”
Brittany turned her head toward Andie and gave her an “are you kidding me?” look. “The helicopter rescue guy, that’s who. Isn’t his name Cade or Cole or something? He was an usher today.”
“Best man,” Andie corrected.
The other woman gave Andie a scrutinizing look. “That’s right, you were like the maid of honor or something.”
Andie ground her back teeth. Brittany hadn’t actually used the word old as a descriptor of maid, but it had sure sounded like it.
“His name’s Colt Armstrong and he’s probably old enough to be your father.” Andie said, using her most censorious teacher voice.
Oh yeah, lecturing won’t make you seem old or uptight.
“Tsk. That doesn’t diminish his appeal,” Brittany said, and turned back to watching Colt.
Yeah, that’s probably what that other twentysomething thought, too.
The one who’d decided she’d wanted Andie’s husband.
Andie’s eyes narrowed as Brittany sashayed across the dance floor toward her quarry.
Hottie Colt Armstrong. Weren’t there enough men Brittany’s own age to stalk?
Leave a few for us old maids, Andie thought, and sighed.
You weren’t going to do this to yourself anymore, remember? No more negative thoughts.
She’d put Dean and her marriage in the past where they belonged.
The new and improved Andie wouldn’t want him back even if he came crawling.
She might enjoy that sight, but it wouldn’t resurrect any feelings for him.
Those were dead and gone. Blown away like sand on the beach during one of the frequent winter storms along this part of the Oregon coast.
Yesterday, she’d have sworn she’d let go of all her bitterness, but she’d learned just this morning that Dean’s new wife had given birth. Andie had wallowed in self-pity for a bit after hearing the news from a mutual friend back in Massachusetts.
But she pulled herself together along with a pair of red lace panties and slapped a smile on her face. This was her sister Cassie’s big day and Andie wasn’t going to spoil the happiness her sister so richly deserved.
Still, the knowledge roiled in her gut. All those years she’d put off starting her own family, put off her own dreams so she could support Dean through law school, help him set up his practice, wait for it to become profitable.
Then when his law practice was successful, he’d announced he was in love with his paralegal, a woman at least a decade and a half younger than Andie.
You call this not dwelling? Face forward. You can’t go forward if you’re looking backward.
Brittany had reached her prey. She laid her hand on his arm and leaned closer to say something.
“Oh come on,” Andie muttered; the music wasn’t that loud. This was a family-friendly wedding, not a nightclub with music that pounded and pulsed.
Andie started to turn away from the show but caught Colt shaking his head. She couldn’t hear what they were saying but Brittany was storming off in a huff. Not what Andie had expected.
Andie made a decision and strolled over to Colt, following in the younger woman’s footsteps. An irony not lost on Andie.
Colt straightened from a slouch and smiled as she approached. “Hey, I’ve been waiting for you.”
Andie glanced over her shoulder. Nope, no one there. “Me?”
“Yes, you. We haven’t danced together yet. I think it’s expected of us.”
Huh. There had been no smile for Brittany. Andie smiled at the thought, but she had to be sure. “Isn’t that what Brittany wanted? To dance with you?”
“Brittany? Is that her name?”
“Yeah.”
He grimaced. “I think she was suggesting a lot more.”
“And you didn’t take her up on her offer?”
He shook his head. “Told her I wasn’t interested.”
“She called you a hottie.” Damn. Why did she have to tell him that?
Colt quirked an eyebrow. “And what did you say?”
“I told her you were probably old enough to be her father.”
His gray-blue eyes intense, he stared at her for a beat, then gave a hoot of laughter filled with genuine amusement. After he’d recovered, he said, “How about that dance?”
She smiled up at Colt and said yes.
Face forward. Embrace life.
Great, Andie Billings 2.0 sounded more like a fortune cookie than a life philosophy. But she was dancing with the hottie…
The Next Morning
“What have you gotten yourself into?” Andie shook her head at the wild-eyed woman staring back at her from the cracked bathroom mirror at the Shady Rest Motor Inn.
No wait, that wasn’t right. Shady Rest sounded more like a nursing home than a motel reminiscent of days gone by. Maybe it was the Shady Elm. Did they even have elm trees in Oregon? She’d lived in Sandy Shores for three years; shouldn’t she know stuff like that?
She clicked her tongue. The name of the place was immaterial.
What was important was the fact she was experiencing the morning after her very first one-night stand.
She groaned. She might not know the name of the motel but she knew this was just a one-night stand.
How? Because last night she’d let hottie Colt Armstrong see her thirty-nine-year-old body. Naked.
The fact Colt was a few years older than her was immaterial. Guys that hot ended up with much younger women. Hadn’t her divorce from Dean taught her that?
So much for facing forward. Embracing life.
She closed her eyes and attempted to blame her sister’s wedding and tequila for her lapse in judgment.
The fact that she could remember every glorious detail of last night mocked her when she tried to blame too much tequila for what she’d done.
No, she hadn’t been drunk, but no matter how much she tried to deny it, she had been pissed about Dean’s new baby.
And deep down, it hurt to think that motherhood may have passed her by.
She leaned over the sink until her forehead rested on the mirror.
The hurt, the anger, the wedding, had mixed with the tequila and set her on a path.
Colt Armstrong, with his sexy gray-blue eyes and delicious abs, had unwittingly stepped into that path.
They’d shared a slow dance or two, and that’s when things had gotten complicated.
His strong arms around her, that deep voice in her ear, those calloused hands on her bare back.
Yeah…that backless dress had probably been mistake number two.
Number one had been checking her messages before leaving the house.
An old friend from Massachusetts had delivered the news about Dean’s new baby.
Things had gotten complicated was one way of explaining last night.
Now she’d have to do the next morning walk of shame.
If she were lucky, Colt would still be asleep and she could collect her purse and slip out of the motel room.
Then what? Did Sandy Shores even have Uber? Why didn’t she know these things?
Straightening up, she told her reflection to buck up. She was a big girl and could—
A knock at the door was followed by, “Are you okay in there?”
She groaned. So much for Colt sleeping in.
“I-I’m fine,” she said, adjusting yesterday’s now wrinkled, ruined mess of a dress.
The backless dress. She’d shoved her hose into her purse when she’d gathered up her clothes and shoes scattered on the floor and escaped into the bathroom.
But hadn’t seen her undies. “Um, have you seen my underpants?”
“Just a sec,” came Colt’s deep voice from the other side of the door. “Were they red lace?”
“Yes, that’s them. Could—” Wait. Were? “Why are you using past tense?”
“Huh?”
“You used a past tense verb when you referred to them.” That’s right, teacher Andie, give him a grammar lesson.
“Well, they…uh…they are past tense,” came the reply.
Past tense undies? What the—
“I guess they got ripped.”
Great. Now she’d be doing that walk of shame sans underpants. She’d just stay in here, safe behind the closed door, until he gave up and left.
“Andrea? Can you—”
She swung the door open with enough force that it bounced off the bathroom wall and hit her on the shoulder on its way back. “What did you just call me?”
“Uh… Andrea? Isn’t that what Andie is short for?”
She advanced on him and he took a step back. “My name is Andromeda, not Andrea. You slept with me and didn’t even know my name?”
He stopped his retreat and stood straight, giving him a distinct advantage since he was at least six foot two. And, oh God, wearing nothing but black boxer briefs.
Eyes above the waist. And cultivate that anger. It’s your ally. “My name is Andromeda. Got that?”
“Ah,” he said with a nod. Then he had the temerity to grin. “That makes sense with a sister named Cassiopeia. I apologize for the misunderstanding.”
She noticed the scrap of torn red lace held loosely in his hand and winced.
The air in her lungs whooshed out, taking the last of her anger with it.
She rarely used her full given name except on legal documents, so the mistake was understandable.
Without her anger, the whole situation had turned awkward and even a bit shame—
“Stop that right now.”
His sharp order halted her thoughts in their tracks. “What?”
He made a circle with his index finger. “You’re thinking you should be ashamed of what we did last night. What happened was not shameful.”
“How…?”
“I can see it on your face.”