I should never have given him my address.
Jerking the strings of my apron free, I lift it over my head and toss it on the worktable. “That’s it,” I snap. “I’m going to find out what he’s doing.” It’s getting creepy.
Holding up something long and dark blue, she says, “Put on your coat. It’s colder than a witch’s tit out there. I think March is going out like a lion.”
Gah. Such a mom thing to say. Well, not the witch’s tit part, but the coat part. And the lion part. She’s going to make me smile when I need to focus all my energy into being angry.
Throwing on my coat, I grab the hat Robin’s holding out and slam it onto my own head as she warns, “And watch your step out there. There’s ice beneath the snow.”
Now I can’t help it. I laugh. “Yes, Mom.”
I think she’s okay with that, because she beams with pride. “That’s right, hon. Listen to your other mother.”
“Be right back.” After I kick some Nate Black ass.
Stomping out the door, I look right, then left, since I’m not sure which direction he’s parked this time. I spot his truck to my left, across the street. How could I not? The thing is ginormous. Stomping again, I march down the sidewalk until I’m parallel to his truck. Looking both ways, I start the trek across the street in the same fashion when I feel my feet slip out from beneath me.
Stupid ice.
I’m flat on my ass and back before I even realize what was happening. “Shit.” I mutter. Just then, I feel hands on my face.
“Are you okay?” Blinking, I realize it’s Nate.
“No.” I laugh. “Yes.”
“Did you hit your head?” He feels the back of my skull. “No blood.” He looks down into my eyes. “Maggy. Did you hit your head?”
I slowly shake it left, then right. “No.”
He looks down at my belly that has grown exponentially since the last time we tried to have lunch together. I’m really showing now. “The baby?” he asks, sounding concerned. Why would he be concerned? He’s made it clear he wants nothing to do with this child.
“I’m fine. She’s fine.”
“She?”
I roll my eyes. “Just a figure of speech. I don’t know the sex.” And even if I did, why does he care? “Can you help me up?”
“You sure?”
“Yes. There’s a car coming.” I point down the street. “I’d prefer not to get run over.”
Nate takes my hands in his and helps pull me to my feet. It couldn’t have been easy; I feel like I’ve gained a hundred pounds. According to my doc it’s only been twenty, but still. “Thanks,” I say as I wipe the snow and grime from the street off my coat.
Once I’ve gotten myself back together, I remember why I came out into the muck in the first place. Putting hands on my hips, I ask, “What are you doing here? This is the third time I’ve seen your truck. It’s getting weird.” It is. Why not just say it.
“I’ve got a job nearby.”
“Oh.”
“I don’t like to micromanage my crew, so I tend to stay close in case they need me.”
“Oh.” Why is that disappointing?
I guess I was hoping he was stalking me. No. Not stalking. Not in the illegal sense. What I mean by that is that I was hoping he was trying to work up the courage to talk to me. To tell me he’s changed his mind.
Hey! Wait one second. “Then why were you parked outside my place?”
“I—” He pauses. “Why haven’t you signed the papers yet?”
