and do the laundry and cleaning here. For goodness’ sakes, I barely have to lift a finger with all you do.”
“Thanks, but—”
“No buts,” Jeanne said. “We know that Joe hasn’t offered any financial support, and he should have. At some point, you may have to confront him about that.”
Stacey shook her head. “I hate the thought of it. He rejected both of us so thoroughly. I hate the thought of asking him for anything.”
“But he is your baby’s father,” her mother said. “He has some responsibilities.”
“I wish he wasn’t Piper’s father. I wish her father was someone more responsible, mature. Someone who adored her.” A lump of emotion caught in her throat. “I wish—” she said, her voice breaking. She took a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter what I wish. I’m probably never going to find anyone that loves me and Piper, and I need to stop whining about it. Piper and I are so blessed that my family loves us and supports us.”
“Well, of course we love you,” her mother said. “But you’re young, and you have a long life ahead of you. You’ll find someone—”
“I don’t think so,” Stacey interrupted. “I can’t count on that. I can’t hope for it. I’ve just got to focus on doing the right thing for Piper, and I think tutoring is the right thing.”
“If you’re sure,” her mother said. “And you know I’m happy to babysit for Piper anytime you need.”
“Thank you, but I’m hoping I can do this while she’s napping,” Stacey said.
Her mother studied her for a long moment. “I worry that you don’t get out with people your age very much. You and Rachel see each other now and then, but not that often. I wondered if you and Colton might be getting friendly.”
“Oh, no. He was just trying to be nice and brotherly,” she said, although her teeth ground together when she said it.
“If you say so,” her mother said. “There’s no reason you two can’t enjoy each other as friends.”
“Hmm. We’ll see,” Stacey said in a noncommittal voice. “At the moment, I need to make some copies of these posters and call in some favors from my teacher friends.”
“All right. You sound like a busy girl. Are you still going to make desserts for the Winter Festival?” her mother asked.
“That’s next week and I’ve already got it on my calendar,” Stacey said. “I’ve got it under control.”
Stacey did her best to stay busy during the next days. She didn’t want to think about Colton. She couldn’t help feeling dumped. Thank goodness, no one except she and Colton knew what had happened between them. The longer the time passed, the more she knew, for certain, that now that he’d indulged his passion for her, he was done with her. She would have felt a bit more used if she didn’t recall how much pleasure she’d experienced with him. Every once in a while, a stray image crossed her mind of the way he’d felt in her arms, the way he’d kissed and caressed her. Every time she had one of those thoughts she wanted to stomp it from her mind the same way she would stomp a spider. This was not the time for her to be thinking about her sexual needs.
Darn Colton Foster. Ever since Joe had abandoned her, Stacey had buried all her interest in sex. It hadn’t been that difficult. But being around Colton had brought those emotions back to life, and these feelings were not convenient.
Not at all.
* * *
“Colton, I need you to take my pies to Dessert Booth number three-B at the Winter Festival tomorrow,” Olive Foster said when he walked into the kitchen late Thursday evening.
Colton shook his head. “I’ve got a mile-long list of chores I have to do tomorrow. Maybe Rachel can do it.”
“Rachel is student teaching. She can’t do both,” his mother said. “You’ll only have to be there three hours.”
“Three hours,” he echoed, incredulous. “Why can’t I just drop them off?”
“Because they need people to help work the booth,” she said. “And I’m volunteering to help the handicapped at the festival.”
“You may need to help Dad if he decides to do any of the chores I have planned for tomorrow,” Colton grumbled.
His mother shot him a sharp look. “That’s a terrible thing to say about your father.”
“You know he has a problem with his back, even though he won’t admit it,” he said.
She sighed. “I’ll guilt him into coming with me. That should keep him out of trouble.”
“Kinda like you’re guilting me into working a bake sale?” he returned.
“Colton, you are bordering on being disrespectful. What’s wrong with you lately, anyway? You’ve been as grumbly as a bear with a sore paw. Are you having girl trouble?”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake.” Colton lifted his hand. This was not a conversation he wanted to have with his mother. “Just stop, Mom. I’ll do the darn bake sale.” Hell, he would do ten bake sales as long as he never had to discuss this subject with his mother again.
After lunch, the following day, Colton loaded up his truck with his mother’s apple pies and drove to the Winter Festival. There was already a mile-long line of people waiting to get inside, but since he was a so-called vendor, he walked right in. It took him a while, but he finally found his assigned booth. He set the pies on the card table and turned around to get the second batch.
He was in such a hurry he nearly walked straight into someone just outside the booth.
“Don’t,” she said, and she sounded remarkably like Stacey. He should know since he’d been hearing her voice in his dreams every night. “Don’t knock over the cupcakes,” she said.
Colton grabbed two of the boxes that threatened to fall off the tower of desserts she carried and noticed Stacey was hauling Piper on her back at the same time she carried the desserts. “For Pete’s sake, what are you doing?”
“I brought cupcakes and pies. I couldn’t decide which to bake, so I made both,” she said, striding toward the same booth where he just set down his mother’s apple pies. Stacey frowned, then looked up at Colton. “What are you doing here?”
“My mother guilted me into bringing her pies and working this booth,” he said.
“Well, that’s just great,” Stacey said, clearly disgusted. “Just great.”
“Hey, my mother pushed me into this,” he said. “Don’t blame me.”
“I’m not blaming you for bringing your mother’s pies,” she said, but he could hear she hadn’t finished her sentence. There was more to it.
“You’re blaming me for something,” he said. “I can hear it in your voice.”
“I’m blaming you for not calling me, Colton Foster. That was
