The Road to Rose Bend, Naima Simone [jenna bush book club .TXT] 📗

and not one I’d prefer to go into right now.”

“Fair enough. But,” his gaze flickered to her stomach before returning to her face, “you’ve been divorced for six months, which means you must’ve been separated longer than that. And you’re what? Four or five months along?”

“Eighteen weeks today. So yes, I was with my ex after we split up. Too much loneliness, too much wine and too long without sex. And here we are,” she announced with a wry smile and a sweep of her hand over her belly. “Please don’t judge,” she whispered, and stifled a groan, appalled that she’d allowed that plea to slip. She didn’t need anyone’s approval. Her actions were her actions, and she refused to apologize for them or the result. Yet, without her permission, her tongue kept moving. “I know what people thought about me when I left Rose Bend. The wild child. Uncontrollable and zero fucks to give. Some of that is true, but I wasn’t as out of control as some of these folks most likely believed. I didn’t give head behind the high school bleachers or fuck the quarterback in the boys’ locker room. I’ve only been with one man, and that was my ex-husband. So, when I had a drunken, sexual itch to scratch, it was him I went to. Sex with him was familiar, comforting.” She puffed out a self-derisive chuckle. “God, that sounds awful, doesn’t it? Instead of passionate and consuming and hot as hell, sex was ‘comforting.’ Don’t get me wrong, though. It’s not like we ever had problems in that area...”

“Sydney.”

“Yes?” she asked, the sound of her name in that quiet but hard voice cutting off her mortifying jabbering. Thank God.

“Move on.”

“Right,” she breathed, zeroing her gaze back on the coffee table, unable to look at Cole after that case of verbal diarrhea. “Anyway, when I found out I was pregnant, we were both shocked. But Daniel being Daniel recovered faster and immediately went into planning mode. He wanted us to remarry, but I didn’t.” Couldn’t. “He wasn’t happy about that or my decision to move back home.”

“Why did you decide to come back here?” he asked.

She paused, analyzing his tone for the disapproval and criticism that often saturated this question when it was broached. Daniel. Their friends. Her parents.

But she heard only curiosity, sympathy. Compassion.

Briefly closing her eyes, she sank into that voice, allowed it to wrap around her like a warm blanket. But seconds later, she lifted her lashes, tossing that warmth, that shelter away.

Because it wasn’t hers to keep. Not even to borrow.

“Because the moment I realized I wanted to keep this baby I knew he or she deserved the very best I could give them. My own childhood was...complicated. But this town...” She moved her attention to the large windows and gazed at the quaint scene that greeted her. Tree-lined Main Street with its light, midday traffic, charming shops, and the chatter and laughter of shoppers that filtered through the glass. In one more week, with the advent of the motorcycle ride and rally, the traffic—both automotive and pedestrian—would increase, but the town wouldn’t lose its picturesque, close-knit appeal. “This town is home. Even with all my complaints—and as a kid, I had plenty—I never felt unsafe here. People care about one another. They’re the true definition of community. Regardless of how it was in my house, in Rose Bend, a child can be a child. I want that for my baby. He or she might not have a two-parent household, but they’ll have love, security, people who know them, who will care for them and watch out for them when I’m not able to.”

A place to belong. Family.

God, she wanted family for her child. Whether it was biological or one of their choosing.

“Then I’m glad you came back, Sydney,” he murmured.

She jerked her gaze to him, and the genuine warmth and honesty there—the lack of judgment—both stunned her and caused a twist of heat to unfurl deep inside her chest. Had she become so guarded, so jaded that she approached people with her emotional fists raised, ready to defend, to fight?

Maybe. Probably.

Yes.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, just as gently.

Silence fell between them, one thick with a steadily rising tension. Her eyes dipped to his mouth, lingered on the carnal curves with the slight indent in the middle of that full bottom lip. Her fingertips tingled, itching to trace the faint depression. Desperate to. She curled her fingers into her palms, lifting her gaze back to his.

But he stared at her hands.

And when he slowly drew his gaze up, his eyes peering into hers, the heat there...

She blinked, air snagging in her throat.

Gone.

In the next instant, nothing but concern and patience shadowed the amber depths. The same concern and patience that had been in his expression since she’d entered his office.

She must’ve imagined that smoldering intensity, the need in his gaze. Or she was projecting her own lust onto him. Drawing in a deliberate breath, she held it, willing her body to calm, to get a grip. Ordering the glide of liquid desire in her veins to cease. Commanding her nipples to stand down and stop being so damn thirsty. Demanding her thighs to stop that futile clenching that seemed to just aggravate the pulsing between her legs.

Because Cole Dennison did not want her. Not only did he probably still consider her just his younger sister’s friend, but he could barely look at her belly without flinching.

Even if those two hindrances didn’t exist, one undeniable and unescapable fact persisted. Cole remained deeply in love with his dead wife.

And imagining anything different—believing that he could want her—only set her up for an emotional bruising.

“Now it’s my turn to apologize for distracting you. Back to why you’re here,” he said. “And how I can help.”

She nodded and swept her tongue over her suddenly dry lips. And pretended not to notice his attention fleetingly dropping to her mouth. “Like I said, my