Chapter 15
15
When you were broke, homeless, unemployed, and four weeks away from giving birth, there was an awful lot of paperwork to contend with.
Courtney squinted at the form she was filling out on the tablet device she’d borrowed from Rosie. The form was just the latest in a long line of them that she’d spent the morning working her way through. This one related to her redundancy and any money she might be entitled to once the company administrator had drawn up a list of creditors. She’d also filled out forms to find out if she was due any payments through the statutory redundancy service, along with yet another raft of benefit forms.
As she’d also moved from Southampton to Hamblehurst, she was applying to a new housing department at the local council, as well as registering with a new GP practice and midwife service. Her aunt and uncle had insisted she consider moving to Hamblehurst more permanently, questioning whether she really wanted to return to Southampton if the council there found a suitable flat for her once the baby was born. With her job gone in a puff of smoke, they reasoned, why not think about staying in Hamblehurst where she at least had some family around her?
Touched by their suggestion and seemingly genuine enthusiasm for it, Courtney had got the ball rolling on the form-filling. After only a week and a half spent living with Rosie and getting to know the Austin family better, she already couldn’t imagine leaving them behind to return to an uncertain future in Southampton.
At the same time, she also couldn’t imagine continuing to live at Rosie’s house once her child was born. That wouldn’t be fair to Rosie, who’d been so kind to share her house with her so far. Despite Rosie’s generosity in helping her to buy much-needed essential items for the baby’s arrival, Courtney understood that having a pregnant woman staying in your guest room was altogether different from having a newborn infant living in the house.
As a single woman with a great job and a new love interest on the go in the form of Adrian, the son of Rosie’s next-door neighbour, Courtney wasn’t about to inflict the total upheaval of a tiny baby and a clueless new mother onto her sweet and kind cousin. Poor Rosie hadn’t signed up for anything like that.
So, it made sense to get the form-filling started and hope the local council would find somewhere in Hamblehurst for her to live once her baby was born.
And failing that, Courtney would take her aunt and uncle up on their offer for her to stay with them once she’d had her baby. Their house was a little bigger than Rosie’s, and the guest room they’d shown her was larger than the one in Rosie’s house, which would give Courtney and the baby much-needed space. As the guest room was also at the opposite end of the first floor to where her aunt and uncle slept, Courtney hoped it would also mean there was less chance of disturbing them during the night with a fussy baby, unlike at Rosie’s house, where the two bedrooms shared a common wall and her cousin would be subjected to the inevitable night-time crying that was part-and-parcel of bringing a tiny infant into the house.
Knowing she had a safety net beneath her as far as her living situation was concerned was such a load off Courtney’s mind that she sagged with relief anytime she thought of it. She suspected that if she were still back in Southampton, she might have found herself stuck in the awful bedsit once her baby was born, even although the accommodation was completely unsuitable for an infant. At least now she had the luxury of options offered by her newfound family and the knowledge that she had somewhere safe for her baby once she arrived in the world.
Still, the best case scenario was finding a proper flat for herself, so she didn’t have to rely on the generosity of her family, and that meant filling out forms and getting them into the system and then keeping her fingers crossed for good news.
With her form-filling done for the time being, Courtney set aside the tablet device and stretched out a kink in her neck. She was stiff from sitting so long poring over the screen, on top of the time she’d already spent earlier working on Travis’s author marketing tasks. It felt good to have spent a productive morning, but now she wanted to get moving.
As her pregnancy progressed, she’d come to appreciate more and more how much she enjoyed, and benefitted from, staying physically active. Even just a few hours spent sitting down left her stiff and eager to flex her muscles and get the blood flowing.
And even although she’d be cursing her decision to go for a walk once she found herself waddling along the pavement and feeling out of breath, she wanted to do it just the same.
Encouraged by a gentle kick from the baby, Courtney grabbed a light jacket in recognition of the cooler air outside today and headed outdoors. After admiring the front gardens that lined Foxglove Street, as she did every time she walked along the pretty road, she turned towards Peartree Park.
She looked forward to what had become her daily stroll around the lovely park. The twists and turns along the pathways, the gurgling water fountain, the grand oaks filled with birdsong… all these features, and more, were now familiar to her and enjoying them had become a welcome addition to her day.
So, too, had the recognition she saw in the faces of those she passed as she meandered during her walks. Coming here as she did at around the same time each day, she’d begun noticing the same faces of the dog walkers, joggers, young mothers with toddlers, and the others she passed along the pathways, and appreciated the friendly exchange of smiles and nods of hello.
Glancing along the path now, she saw Olive Nimmo walking towards her with the little dog Elsa at her side, Olive’s hand already raised in greeting as she approached.
“Hello, dear,” Olive said. “How are you feeling today?”
“I’m feeling good, Olive.” Courtney patted Elsa on the head and ruffled her soft ears. “How are you? Oh, did you chat with your grandson in Canada? The last time we bumped into one another, you said there was a problem with his wedding arrangements.”
Olive let out a humorous sigh and nodded. “We had a good chat, yes, and I’m pleased to say I helped calm him down. In the end, the whole thing was a storm in a teacup, and just a minor hiccup with some of the wedding reception organisational details that was relatively easy to sort out once my grandson Blake and his fiancé Kylie realised they’d both have to compromise a little. However, the stress of organising a wedding, not to mention still adjusting to being parents of a growing and increasingly active child, is enough to put even the most level-headed of people on edge, and I think they both just buckled under the pressure. They had a big argument about it all, and said some silly things to one another, but I succeeded in persuading my grandson that no couple in the history of the world has ever made it to the altar without saying at least a few choice words to each other.”
Courtney laughed. “I’m sure he appreciated talking to you about it all.”
“I was glad to help, and I’m happy to say all is now well. Living so far away from my immediate family, it’s not often I have the opportunity to help out in a crisis. While I naturally wish my poor grandson hadn’t been so upset in the first place, I was pleased to do my bit and help pour oil on troubled waters.” A wry smile crossed the older lady’s lips. “Although, if Blake and Kylie had waited just a few more days before having their epic argument, I would have been there in person to help smooth things over.”
“You’re flying over there soon, isn’t that right?” Courtney asked, remembering some of the details Olive had shared about the extended trip she was about to take to Toronto.
“The day after tomorrow,” Olive agreed, with a nod. “The wedding doesn’t take place until next month, but I wanted to get myself over there well in advance to make sure I recover from any jet lag or cabin bugs I might have the misfortune to pick up while flying there. I’ll have almost eight weeks with my family in total, with the wedding in the middle, and I can’t wait to get there and see everyone.”
“I hope you have a wonderful time, Olive. I’ll miss seeing you out and about at the park while you’re gone.”
Courtney had only been staying in Hamblehurst for a little over two weeks, but had come to look forward to bumping into the kindly older lady and her scruffy canine companion when she was out and about.
“I shall miss seeing you, too, dear, but I’ll be back before you know it.” Olive’s eyebrows lifted, and she glanced at Courtney’s baby bump. “And I dare say you will probably have your little one with you by the time I return.”
“You’re right,” Courtney said, smiling as a tingle of excitement ran along her spine at the prospect. “She’ll probably be a few weeks old by the time you get back to Hamblehurst, depending on whether she arrives late or on time.”
Olive reached out and squeezed Courtney’s hand. “I will keep you in my thoughts while I’m gone. You have my phone number, so be sure to send me a message to let me know when your little baby is born. I’ll want to know you are both well.”
Touched by the older lady’s thoughtfulness, Courtney nodded. “If I don’t see you before you leave, I hope you have a wonderful time.”
“Thank you, dear. Take care of yourself.”
Courtney smiled as Olive squeezed her hand one more time before tugging gently on Elsa’s lead and resuming her walk towards the park exit. She continued her own walk, making the most of the cool day to get some extra exercise without ending up in a sweaty heap, and congratulated herself for managing two loops of the duck pond before deciding it was time to return home.
Home , she thought. Even although the guest room at Rosie’s house wasn’t technically her home, she felt at home there. She felt at home on Foxglove Street, and felt at home in Hamblehurst, felt comforted and known and loved , all things that had been missing from her life since her mother’s death.
And she no longer felt so desperately alone here, either. She was under no illusions about the challenges she still faced and the difficulties that might lie ahead for her as a single mother with no job. But those challenges no longer terrified her the way they had only a few weeks ago.
Now she had hope—hope that things would turn out alright in the end.
These thoughts were swirling and lifting her spirits as Courtney left the duck pond behind and saw Travis Stone walking towards her from the other direction. Her stomach did a strange little flip as she watched him draw near, his gaze distant as he peered off into the trees on one side.
He’s day-dreaming again about the book he’s writing, Courtney thought. Off in his own little world.
And on the back of this thought came another.
Why does it thrill me to think about how his mind whisks him off to those distant places in his imagination? Why does it thrill me to know that about him?
And why is my stomach doing somersaults with every step closer I get to him?
She would’ve liked to chalk it up to the baby being active, but that had nothing to do with it. Something about Travis Stone just made her heart hammer a little harder inside her chest, even although she knew it was stupid and pointless and downright ridiculous to even think such a thing about him.
As if he’d be even remotely interested in her, waddling along with her huge baby bump and her disastrous life and an idiot grin plastered across her face.
“Hi, Travis!” she called out, once she got a little closer, adding a wave to make sure she caught his attention.
Travis blinked, pulled out of his thoughts. He peered at her for a beat, as if remembering where he was, and then smiled.
“Courtney, hello,” he said. “How’s things?”
“All good. I was just out for a walk and now I’m on my way home. How are you?”
“I’m fine. Just getting some fresh air and plotting a new scene.” He glanced over his shoulder towards the park exit. “I can walk you back, if you like?”
“Don’t cut your walk short on my account.”
He shook his head. “I took the long way here along the high street and up the hill, so I’ve had plenty of walking time. I stopped off at the baker’s before I came here and bought some treats,” he added, holding up the paper carrier bag in his hands. “Would you, er, like to stop by the house for a coffee and help me eat a few cakes?”
“I’d love to.” She patted her baby bump and grinned. “You know me. I’m always hungry.”
Travis laughed and they fell into step together.
“How’s your new book coming along?” Courtney asked. It had been a few days since they’d shared lunch together, and although they’d pinged some messages back and forth since then, they’d mostly been about his social media sites and updates on the scammer she’d found lurking there.
“It’s going really well,” Travis replied. “I’m writing the final third of the book now, which always goes fast once the action picks up and we get closer to solving the mystery. I had to force myself away from the laptop to give my fingers a rest from typing so much, and a trip to the bakery for some writing fuel seemed like a good way to take a break.”
He grinned as he rustled the bag he was carrying. “I should have stopped off at the greengrocer’s for grapes and apples and other healthy snacks, but when I’m close to finishing a book, I have a bad habit of eating rubbish.”
“I’m sure you deserve it.”
“That was my thinking, too,” he said with an amused wink. “Anyway, you can help me eat these cakes and that way I won’t feel so bad.”
“Happy to lend a hand. I take this assistant job seriously, you know.”
Travis laughed, then gave her a serious look. “I’m assuming you’ve seen no more signs of the horrible scammer hanging around on my social media profiles?”
“No, and no signs of any other funny business going on, either. And for what it’s worth, after you posted the alert to let your readers know there was someone up to no good, the feedback in the comments was all positive. The fans were angry to know there was some nasty person there trying to trick everyone, and they appreciated the heads-up, too.”
“Good to know. And what about the other posts you’ve been doing about the read-along with the first novel? How are those going down?”
“Pretty well, actually. The readers seem to enjoy chatting about the book and discussing their favourite scenes, and from what I can tell when I dug into the analytics, there’s been increased engagement since I started making those posts. Engagement was high to start with, as you know, but it’s good to know it’s bumped up even more. The mix of posts from me about my experience of reading the first Maura Shaw book along with the posts you’re supplying and which you’d already scheduled are providing a nice combination of content. I think your readers are happy.”
“You’re doing a great job, Courtney. I’m glad to know it’s all in safe hands.”
“When your regular assistant comes back to work, maybe you should suggest she continues the read-along feature, perhaps with the next book in the series?”
His face looked clouded all of a sudden, his gaze more thoughtful. “Maybe I’ll give that some thought. Although I’m not entirely sure it’s something Ruth would be interested in taking on, to be honest. Our contract stipulates that I provide the original social media content, and she deals with all the comments and interactions. If I asked her to take on a reading task too, along with creating the sort of original posts you’ve been doing, it would take up much more of her time.”
“I didn’t think of that.”
Travis threw a glance her way, his eyes still thoughtful. “How much extra time are you putting into reading the book and creating posts? I know you said you didn’t mind the extra work, but the more I think about it, the more I realise I should probably pay you more.”
“There’s no need for that. I said I wanted to read one of your books and that was my choice. I don’t expect to be paid to do it.”
“Still, I don’t like the idea of exploiting your good will.”
“You’re not.” Courtney waved a hand. “I enjoyed reading the book and I already finished it, so all I’m doing now is putting together a few posts about the story and the characters and so on. It’s not much extra work.”
“I should pay you for the extra time, anyway.”
Studying his face, she saw the matter was troubling him.
“How about you just give me a decent reference for my next job?” she suggested. “That would mean more to me than some extra cash, to be honest. With the furniture shop out of business, I doubt I’ll be able to rely on the owners to write any references for me, which is a huge problem actually, because I worked there for a couple of years and it will mean a nasty gap in my employment paperwork and…”
She realised she was letting herself get carried away. The problem of obtaining employment references from a defunct business had occurred to her plenty of times while she was filling out job applications, and each time it caused anxiety to spike, which was exactly what was happening now.
Travis must have noticed the worry on her face and the tone in her voice, because he gave her a reassuring look.
“I’ll write you a brilliant reference. That’s no problem,” he said. “How’s it going on the job-hunting front?”
She choked out a strangled laugh. “About as well as I’d expected it would go, considering I’m a matter of weeks away from having a baby. I’m only applying for temporary posts right now, and bits and pieces of hourly work that might see me through, but I’m not having much luck. I might have to think outside the box.”
Travis offered a sympathetic smile. “Something will come up, I’m sure of it.”
“Fingers crossed.”
Courtney turned the conversation away from recounting her catalogue of personal problems. She’d already shared more than she should have, and Travis was her employer, strictly speaking. He surely didn’t want to hear about her disastrous life.
She chatted instead about the Maura Shaw book she’d read, talking about her favourite scenes and asking questions about how Travis had found his way around the twisty plot he’d flung his clever amateur sleuth into the middle of. Listening as he answered, she couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes lit up as he talked about the wonderful protagonist he’d created and the captivating world in which she did her sleuthing. Maura Shaw, and the books that detailed her various adventures, was obviously his great passion.
As he talked about how he’d dreamt up some of the crazy plot twists in the first book, and spoke more about his writing process and how he liked to work, Courtney couldn’t help feeling caught up in his enthusiasm and admiring his love for his craft.
“…so, that’s how I came up with the multiple red herrings in the first book,” Travis said as they approached the front gate of the house where he was staying on Foxglove Street. When he realised they’d arrived there, he gave her a sheepish look. “And it’s only just occurred to me that I’ve been talking non-stop about the book since we left the park. Sorry, you must be bored silly listening to me.”
“Of course not,” Courtney said, honestly. “I’m enjoying listening, and it’s fascinating to hear how the story came about. Do you ever think about sharing some of these insights with your readers?”
As he unlocked the front door, he let out a laugh. “I’m sure the readers just want a good book to entertain them for a few hours. They don’t want to know about the nuts-and-bolts of the writing process.”
“Some of them might. While I’m sure you might want to keep some details of your writing process private, I think many of the fans would enjoy finding out more about the behind-the-scenes stuff. Just a few snippets about how you work and where you are with your current project, and maybe a few teasers about what’s happening in the story without giving too much away.”
Travis looked thoughtful. “That doesn’t seem a little, I don’t know, self-indulgent?”
“No! Not at all. I’m not suggesting you write screeds and screeds about the behind-the-scenes writing, just that you throw in a post every few weeks that gives your readers a little insight into how you write and where your current project is in terms of progress. Since I’ve been working as your assistant, I’ve looked at many other author profiles on social media and it’s not an uncommon thing to share those kinds of posts. Readers like to see them, too, from what I can tell.”
“Maybe I’ll give it some thought. It might not hurt to add another thread of content to the social media material I already share about the published books. Coming up with new things to post about isn’t easy.”
They were inside the house now and Travis headed for the kitchen, where he filled the kettle. Removing a bag of ground coffee from the cupboard, he frowned.
“I just realised I don’t have any decaffeinated coffee,” he said.
“Tea is fine,” Courtney said.
“Are you sure? I can run down to the high street and grab something.”
“No need. Tea suits me. It’s more refreshing after the walk, and I’m a bit parched.”
At these words, Travis filled a glass with water and handed it to her. Grateful, and also touched by his consideration, she gulped down half the glass while Travis sorted tea things and emptied the bag of cakes onto a plate.
“Oh, wow, those look fantastic,” Courtney said, scanning the selection of chocolate brownies and iced cupcakes he’d brought home. “I might need to eat more than just one.”
“You can have as many as you like,” he laughed, pouring hot water into the teapot and then adding it to the tray where he’d already placed mugs, a sugar bowl and jug of milk. “Shall we sit in the living room?”
“Suits me. I’ll bring the cakes.”
She followed him through to the front room, her gaze skipping across to the desk where he worked as she moved towards the sofa. The screen on his laptop was dark, but spread around the machine on either side were open notebooks and scattered pens, along with an array of coloured sticky notes bearing swirling scribbles, mini flow diagrams, and more.
“Please ignore the mess,” Travis said, gesturing to the desk. “Like I said, I’m in the final third of writing the new book, and there are a lot of threads and plotlines to tie up in this story. The notes help me keep everything in hand, although I’m sure it probably doesn’t look that way.”
“It looks like a lot of amazing creativity is happening here,” she said, accepting the mug of tea he handed her and nodding towards his desk. “And this is exactly what I was talking about earlier. Your readers would love to know that all this is part of your working process. If you took a quick photo of your desk and blurred out any legible writing on your notebooks, they’d love to see what your desk set-up looks like, especially as you get to the end of a new book.”
Travis glanced towards the desk, his expression unconvinced. “Maybe. I guess I’m just quite a private person. I think I’d feel uncomfortable sharing that sort of stuff, to be honest.”
Courtney realised she’d been pushing him in a direction he didn’t want to go. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kept going on about it and suggesting you share things you don’t actually want to share.”
“It’s fine,” he said, waving away her apology. “I agree with what you’re saying, and I’m sure some of the readers would enjoy seeing this sort of stuff.” He waved again, this time towards his writing desk. “Ever since the Maura Shaw books took off, I’ve tried to find the right balance of what I share online. I want readers to feel they’re getting decent content from me when they follow me on Facebook or wherever, which is why I share bits and pieces about the research I do for the books and some of the ideas that inspire the plots and some of the locations I visit to add colour to the stories. But I’ve always been hesitant about sharing more personal stuff.”
He laughed and gave her an amused look. “Not that there’s much personal stuff to share. I’m pretty boring. All I do is write.”
“You’re not boring, Travis. How could you say that? You’re an author . That’s really cool.”
“All work and no play…” He laughed again, and gestured to the plate of cakes she’d sat on the coffee table between them. “Help yourself.”
Courtney selected one of the iced cupcakes and considered her next words as she peeled back the paper case. “What do you like to do in your spare time?”
“When I’m not writing, I’m thinking about writing,” he replied, an amused grin on his face. “That’s both good and bad. It’s good for my publisher, my readers, and my bank account. It’s bad for the work-life balance thing. These past couple of years, I’ve found it too easy just to disappear into my writing and into my stories. I’ve had a hectic publishing schedule to keep up with, and I know that makes me very lucky. But I’ve let other things slide in order to write, and then one day I looked up from my keyboard and realised I’d lost touch with friends, stopped doing activities I’d once enjoyed, and…”
He blinked, and a mixture of surprise and embarrassment crossed his face. “And I have no idea why I’m telling you all this. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. We’re just chatting, aren’t we?”
“Sure, but…” After gulping down some tea, he gave her a puzzled look. “You’re incredibly easy to talk to, Courtney. I’ve probably talked more to you since we met than I have to any other person I know.”
“Well, I’m flattered.” Although she said it lightly and with humour, she felt a blush warm her cheeks thanks to Travis’s words and the way his intense gaze skimmed her face.
Perhaps it was the way he was looking at her that made her blurt out, “So, you don’t have a girlfriend? Or a partner?”
Travis’s eyes widened at her question. She wondered why she’d asked such a thing.
But she was kidding herself if she pretended not to already know the answer. She wanted to know if this man belonged to someone. Maybe it would be better if he did, so she could halt these stupid feelings in their tracks.
Feelings caused by her pregnancy hormones, she reminded herself.
Or was that just another lie she desperately wanted to believe?
“What I mean is,” she quickly added, “when you’re not writing, you don’t have a special someone to spend time with?”
Once more, his eyes raked across her face, and when his gaze met hers, it stayed there.
“No, there’s no special someone,” he said, and then focused on the cake plate for a few long beats. “I was seeing someone for a while last year, but it sort of fizzled out.”
“I’m sorry.”
No, I’m not, her traitor mind piped up.
“Anna, my ex, said I spent too much time with my head in my books. She was right.”
“If doing something makes you happy, then someone who cares for you would never tell you to stop doing it.”
His gaze settled on her once more, even more intense than it had been a few moments ago, sending a shiver down Courtney’s spine that thrilled her almost as much as it scared her.
Why did she feel this way when Travis looked at her like that? Why did talking to him about these personal things come so easily and so naturally, even although they barely knew one another?
And why was she torturing herself by being here with him in the first place, when he’d never, ever look twice at someone like her?
Travis was a successful novelist, with legions of fans, a book series that was a licence to print money, and with a dazzlingly bright future ahead of him. She, on the other hand, was unemployed, homeless, and about to become a single mother.
The idea that those looks he was giving her might be anything more than friendly was ludicrous.
And yet, she couldn’t help wondering, just the same.
“That’s an amazingly insightful thing to say,” Travis said at length, a look of appreciation now on his face. “Although in fairness to Anna, my ex, I don’t think I was ever what she was truly looking for.”
“She wasn’t a writer, then, I take it?”
He shook his head. “Anna was, and is, an up-and-coming actress. She’s social and outgoing and extroverted, all the things you need to be to make it in a world of auditions and busy studios and networking and showbiz parties and all the rest of it. When we first met, Anna had already done plenty of theatre work and had minor roles in a couple of drama series, but by the time we broke up, she’d landed a key supporting actress role in a sci-fi series being produced for one of the big streaming services. She has a big future ahead of her, and I’m thrilled for her.”
“Do you miss her?”
“To begin with, yes. No one likes to get dumped, do they?”
“It’s no fun at all,” Courtney said, with feeling.
A sympathetic smile curved his lips. “We have that in common, I guess. But your break-up was more brutal than mine, obviously, considering there’s an unborn child involved. And in my case, Anna was right. We were going in different directions in life. I wasn’t in love with her, and she wasn’t in love with me, so…” He gave a shrug. “I just moved on and threw myself back into my writing.”
Courtney watched him study the plate of cakes on the table and help himself to a chocolate brownie.
“It makes you happy and you enjoy it,” she said. “Why wouldn’t you get stuck in? The fact that it’s also your career and the way you earn a living, well, that’s just the cherry on top. You have a dream job. Enjoy it.”
He smiled, nodding in agreement while he chewed his cake. “What’s your dream job? Do you want to get back into the retail world once you’ve had your baby? Maybe find another job in a store of some kind?”
“I’m not sure, actually. When I started working at the furniture shop, I was mostly in the back office doing the admin. I really enjoyed it, although I enjoyed the sales side of the business, too. But in all honestly, I don’t know what my dream job would look like. After I finished school, I was just glad to find work and start earning a living. My mother had to hold down two and sometimes three jobs while I was growing up, and by the time I was a teenager and could see how hard she worked, all I wanted was to help and chip in to pay the bills. I never thought much about planning a career. I just knew I needed to bring money into the house and figured I’d cobble together some kind of career along the way.”
She shrugged and added, “Which I did, I suppose. I had a good job at the furniture shop and learned some decent skills. If I’d had any idea the business was in trouble, I would’ve moved on, but I was clueless, along with most of the rest of the staff. With everything else that happened this past year, the job was the one good thing I was clinging to, the lifeboat I hoped would see me through.”
Travis’s expression dimmed. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out that way.”
“Me, too. But it is what it is, and there’s nothing I can do about a business going bust. I just have to focus on the future.” She ran a hand over her baby bump, the gesture automatic. “This little one is my future now. It’s not about me. It’s about her, and giving her the life she deserves. All the hopes and dreams I have now are for her.”
She watched his gaze drop to her stomach and a smile lift his lips. He opened his mouth to speak, but whatever he planned on saying was cut off as he cleared his throat and shifted on the sofa.
“I think you’ll give your baby a wonderful life.” The soft look in his eyes disappeared and a bashful look crossed his face before he pointed to the teapot. “Refill?”
Courtney almost said yes. The idea of staying here and drinking more tea and eating more cakes and talking long into the afternoon with Travis was undeniably attractive.
Until she caught sight of his writing desk and remembered that this was a busy man who was rushing to meet a deadline to finish his next book. Much though she might be enjoying their conversation, he’d probably only invited her to join him out of politeness. He’d bought that enormous bag of cakes to give him comfort food and sugary sustenance while he was writing, and so it was his writing he almost certainly wanted to get back to, rather than have to make idle conversation with his temporary assistant, who he’d hired to save him time and who was, instead, taking up rather an awful lot of it.
“Thanks, but I should probably go,” she said, rising from the sofa.
“Oh, are you sure?”
She might have believed he looked disappointed, except that was probably just a figment of her hormonal—and lonely—imagination.
“I want to check in with my new case worker at the local housing department and find out if there’s any good news for me.”
“Of course.” He nodded in understanding and gestured to the door. “I’ll walk you out.”
At the door, she noticed the pot of pansies that were now thriving and smiled to herself, wondering what state the poor things would’ve been in if she hadn’t pointed them out to Travis in the first place a few days earlier. “Enjoy the rest of your day writing and eating your cakes and goodies.”
“I should’ve given you some of those to take home with you.”
“That’s the last thing I need,” she chortled. “I’m waddling enough as it is.”
Travis snorted out a laugh, and with a wave goodbye, she left. As she walked along Foxglove Street back to Rosie’s house, she tried to think about the phone call she planned to make to her case worker at the housing department, but her mind kept returning to Travis Stone.
And to how much she enjoyed talking with him.
She thought of him as a friend, and wanted to continue to think of him as a friend, if only she could rein in her ridiculous hormonal reactions that had her thinking all kinds of completely inappropriate thoughts about the man.
Yes, so he was handsome in an artistic and darkly ruffled sort of way. And yes, his smile was dazzling, his eyes were deep pools of caramel, and his creative mind and spirit would, quite frankly, be attractive to just about anyone.
And he’d been kind enough to employ her and put cash in her pocket just when she needed it most.
Which meant that any stupid feelings she had about him that went beyond friendship risked both her job and the reference Travis had promised to give her once her temporary role came to an end.
Was she really willing to jeopardise those things because her pregnancy hormones, mixed with the endless train wreck of events over these last few months, had left her emotions ricocheting like pinballs?
The answer was no.
She’d meant what she’d said to Travis earlier—everything she now did was for her baby, not for herself. All her hopes and dreams were for her child.
Which meant getting a hold of herself, remembering she was Travis’s employee, and knowing where the line was drawn in the sand between them.
Her baby was all that mattered now in the world. A soft kick beneath her ribcage served to underline the point.
“Come on then, little one,” Courtney said as she unlocked Rosie’s door and went inside the house. “Let’s ring up the nice lady who works at the housing department and see if she has any exciting new for us yet.”
In response, she felt another kick, this one much harder.
“Ouch, you little rascal. There’s not much room in there anymore, in case you hadn’t noticed, and you’ll do your poor mother a nasty injury if you keep that up.”
A third kick made her laugh. With four weeks still to go before her due date, how much bigger and more active would the baby get? Glancing down at her baby bump, which was already huge, she wondered if she’d just pop one day in response to her infant’s kicks and punches.
That silly thought had her wincing as she imagined instead the reality of the childbirth that lay at the end of her pregnancy journey.
“And we’re not thinking about that,” she murmured. “That’s much too scary.”
The baby must have agreed, because there were no more awkward kicks for a while.
Small mercies.