Bailey, it isn’t the end of the world,” she exclaimed. “The way I see it we have two choices. You can either tell everyone you’re a liar or we can get married and follow through on the plan I outlined this afternoon.”
His frown deepened and he stared down into his coffee mug. Melanie waited patiently, knowing that Bailey never did anything without thinking through his options.
She took a sip of her coffee and tried not to notice the length of his long dark lashes, the attractive structure of his facial features.
There had been a time in high school when raging hormones or something alien had made her yearn for Bailey in a way that had nothing to do with their friendship.
She had stayed awake nights wondering what it would be like if he kissed her passionately on her lips. She’d suddenly been intensely aware of his scent, his strong hands and his broad chest. She had hungered for the touch of his hands, to be crushed against his chest, to taste the heat of his kiss.
Then he’d started dating Marlie Walker, a girl with boobs bigger than her IQ and a reputation for being fast with the boys.
Melanie realized then she would never be the kind of girl to attract Bailey on anything more than a friendship level, and she’d studiously shoved aside thoughts of any other kind of relationship with him. And nothing since that time had made her believe any differently.
All she wanted from Bailey Jenkins was his undying friendship and a baby. She could almost smell the scent of baby powder in the air, and she realized how much she wanted him to agree with her plan.
“There’s a third option,” he said, pulling her back to the here and now. A smile curved the corners of his lips, letting her know he was pleased with whatever he’d come up with. “We could just be engaged until after the Miss Dairy Cow contest. That would keep the worst of the nutty contestants out of my hair. Then, when the pageant is over, we can break our engagement.”
“No way, Bailey Jenkins,” she exclaimed irritably. “There’s no way you get what you want unless I get what I want. If I’m going to protect you from the crown-crazy young women of this town, the least you can do is marry me temporarily and make me pregnant.”
She had that look in her eyes. Bailey recognized it well—the stubborn, determined gaze telling him that to argue with her would be futile. She’d had that same look in her bright-green eyes when they’d been juniors in high school and she’d told him she intended to run against Roger Wayfield, star quarterback, for student council president.
Bailey had tried to talk her out of running, believing there was no way she could win against Roger and wanting to spare her the hurt of a loss, but she’d dug into the campaign with a tenacity and determination that had carried her to a win.
“Mellie, be reasonable,” he said, deciding to ignore the fiery light of resolve in her eyes and talk some sense into her. “If we just pretend to be engaged for the next six weeks or so, then my life will be considerably less complicated, and at the end of the six weeks nobody gets hurt.”
“The same thing could be said if we get married,” she replied, obviously refusing to be swayed. “Bailey, you’re my best friend. A little thing like a divorce won’t do anything to change our friendship. Especially since we’re both going into it with our eyes wide open.”
“But you know I had no intention of ever marrying again,” Bailey reminded her. “And I certainly don’t want a child.”
She tucked a strand of her long, copper-hued hair behind her ear and sighed in obvious frustration. “But that’s what makes you so perfect. I know you don’t want to be a father. I wouldn’t expect you to be a hands-on kind of father. I’m perfectly capable of raising a child on my own. And I keep telling you this won’t be a real marriage. Nothing will be different between us except—” she looked down into her mug, her cheeks taking on a shade of pink “—we’ll have to be, you know, intimate in order for me to get pregnant.”
Bailey frowned, looked into his mug, then at her once again. “I know how badly you want a baby, Mellie, but this idea of yours isn’t the answer,” he said softly.
“Just think how happy your mother would be,” she said.
He shook his head ruefully. “Low blow,” he exclaimed. She knew how much his mother had been nagging him about remarrying and giving her a grandchild.
“Okay, you win. Forget about it.”
He eyed her suspiciously. “What do you mean forget about it?” She had capitulated far too easily.
“Just what I said, forget I mentioned the whole idea. We’ll tell everyone SueEllen got it wrong and we aren’t engaged, and I’ll figure out another way to get what I want.”
“What are you talking about?”
Her gaze darted to a point on the wall just over his head. “I want a baby, Bailey.” Her green eyes sought his once again. “I’m tired of playing the favorite aunt to my nieces and nephews. I’m financially stable and emotionally ready to become a mother. I’m sure I can find somebody here in Foxrun to be a sperm donor, so to speak.”
“Like who? I can’t even believe we’re having this conversation.”
“I don’t know why you’re so surprised. I’ve been talking about wanting a child for months now.”
“Yeah, but I thought it was kind of like me talking about wanting a Jaguar. You know, it would be nice if I got one, but right now it’s pretty much out of the question.”
“But me getting pregnant isn’t out of the question,” she protested. “It’s just a matter of picking which man in Foxrun I’m going to sleep with.”
“Like who? I know Fred Ketchum has a hot crush on you. Sleep with him and your kid will look like a werewolf.”
She laughed. “Fred is all right. He can’t help it that he’s unusually hairy. But you’re right, I’m not sure I’d want his DNA in any child of mine.” She took another sip of her coffee, then continued. “But, there is Buck Walton. I’m sure Buck wouldn’t mind a couple of rolls in the hay with me.”
“Oh, yeah, you’d definitely want his DNA,” Bailey said dryly. “If the kid takes after his father he’ll be swilling beer by the time he’s two and will have a vocabulary of four-letter words that will astound the world.”
“Why are you being so negative?” she asked impatiently.
“Why are you so set on doing this?” he countered. The whole discussion of who she would choose to sleep with was irritating him.
She twirled a strand of her shiny hair between two fingers, a familiar gesture that told him she was concentrating. “Bailey, you and I both know what it’s like to be raised by older parents. Goodness knows, we’ve talked about it often enough.”
He nodded. It was true. It had been one of their common complaints when growing up. Both Mellie’s and his parents had been older when they had been born and they had spent many hours complaining about the fact that their parents were so much older than their friends’ parents.
“If I wait for love and romance and eventually marriage and pregnancy, I’m going to be retired by the time my child
