If just a kiss can make us this hungry, what would a night in bed cause?
Chapter Fourteen
I’m worried whether you are ready for this step,” Clinton told Rebecca.
“I’m fine. The therapy helped, and it’s time for me to move on,” Rebecca assured him. “Where’s that trash bag I brought the rest of her things in?”
She pushed a strand of red hair back behind her ear. Her blue eyes darted around the room, looking for the used trash bag. Clinton wanted to help her, but it was evident that she just wanted to take Zoe and run.
“I threw it away when I unpacked her things.” Clinton picked Zoe up from the playpen and hugged her close to his chest. “There’s a whole roll under the kitchen sink. Rebecca, you can’t run from your problems. You’ve got to face them and get better before you can be a mother to this baby.”
Her hands shook as she peeled off a single bag from the roll and threw the baby’s neatly folded things into it helter-skelter. “We don’t have room in the car to take her playpen or anything else, and Kyla’s waiting for me, so I need to hurry.” She reached out her hands for Zoe. “Thank you for all your help, but a new place with down-to-earth, healthy people is what I need, not listening to a bunch of people depressing me with their war stories.”
Clinton couldn’t let go of the baby. “Please, Rebecca, leave her with me until you get settled, and then I’ll bring her over to Arkansas myself,along with whatever she needs. She’s outgrowing the playpen. Why don’t I just buy her a crib and bring it at that point?”
Rebecca took the baby from him and shook her head. “Thanks again for everything and for the offer, but she’s my daughter.” She slung the bulging diaper bag over her shoulder, held on to Zoe with one arm, and opened the door. Within seconds, her new friend from the center had gotten out of an older-model car and come to the bottom of the stairs. The woman looked as frazzled as Rebecca; she couldn’t stand still, and her whole body seemed to hum with anxiety. Clinton had seen soldiers in that shape when they had severe PTSD. Knowing that Zoe was leaving with Rebecca and that woman caused his chest to tighten.
Rebecca hitched up sweatpants that seemed to be at least two sizes too big for her, picked up the garbage bag, and tossed it out the door to the landing. When she stepped outside, she kicked it to the bottom of the steps and yelled, “Throw that in the trunk, and we’re ready to go once I get her car seat out of Clinton’s truck.”
“I’ll do that for you,” Clinton offered as they walked down the steps.
“I can do it,” Rebecca said, shifting the baby to her other hip. “I don’t want to listen to you try to talk me out of what I’m doing. The little commune in the hills of Arkansas will be a good place for me and Kyla both to heal from our problems. My baby will grow up with a mama who is there for her.”
Dread and hope warred in Clinton’s gut as he picked up his truck keys and opened the doors. “If you ever need anything or change your mind, you’ve got my phone number.”
She nodded. “Yes, I do.”
He was a grown man, and he’d known from the beginning that having Zoe was temporary, but he couldn’t stop the tears from flowing down his unshaven cheeks or the ache in his heart.
“Please call me when you get to the end of your trip,” he called out.
“I don’t have a phone, but I can use Kyla’s,” Rebecca agreed as she settled Zoe into the car seat. “Goodbye, Clinton.”
“Bye.” He waved but was worried about her lack of a phone. He made a mental note to buy half a dozen prepaid ones next time he was at a store that sold them, just to have on hand for times like this.
Taryn heard the bell above the shop door jingle and slid off her barstool and headed toward the front. She fought down a rush of anger when she saw Diana standing in front of the counter with a Bundt cake in her hands. Would the three women ever give up on dragging Clinton kicking and screaming down the aisle? Diana set the plate on the counter and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “I was hoping to see Clinton today. Maybe I should take this up to his apartment.”
“I wouldn’t bother him if I was you,” Taryn told her. “He’s got business going on up there, and I doubt that he would appreciate being disturbed, but hey ...” She held up both palms. “It’s your call, not mine.”
“I’ll leave it here,” Diana said through clenched teeth. “But it’s for him, not for all y’all.”
“I’ll tell him what you said. What else can I do for you today?” Taryn asked.
“It’s an applesauce cake. There’s a surprise filling of brown sugar and cinnamon in the center, and it stays moist for days.” She took a step toward the door. “I mean it about it being just for him.”
“I heard you the first time—but what if he says he doesn’t like cinnamon and wants to share with us?” Taryn asked.
Diana flipped her hair over her shoulder in what Taryn thought was supposed to be a classy—or maybe sexy—gesture. “He loves cinnamon. I’m planning to use this same recipe for our wedding cake.”
Taryn sniffed the air. “It certainly smells delicious. Would you share the recipe so we can make one of our own if he’s not in a sharing mood?”
“I don’t share my recipesormy men,” Diana snapped.
“We haven’t seen any of you contest women coming by in the evenings. Have Elaine and Mallory given up on the whole idea of ropinghim into a wedding?” Taryn’s tone sounded downright chilly in her own ears.
“I’ve been busy helping some friends with a couple of weddings. I thought I could get some ideas for my own, which I hope will be happening at Christmas. I love velvet, and my grandmother and I are designing a velvet wedding gown with a cape that has the train attached to it.” Diana practically swooned.
Elaine pushed her way into the shop with a wrapped package in her hands. She set it on the counter beside the cake. “Stand back, Diana. You haven’t won this contest yet,” she said and looked over at Taryn. “This is a little present for Clinton that I found on my trip to New Mexico. Nothing fancy, but I thought he might like it. Either call him out of that back room or I’m going in there.”
