Now, that sounded dangerous. Her footsteps made squishing noises in the film of water on the concrete. What he was suggesting was outrageous. Preposterous. Humili-ating.
“I think you’re crazy.” She stopped outside a pale yellow house. “Thanks for the walk home.”
“Alex, please. Don’t say no yet, OK? Just think about it. I know it’s not romantic. But leave all that behind and look at the facts, OK? You’d have some security for yourself and the baby, and a comfortable place to live for the rest of your pregnancy. Your needs will be looked after, I promise.”
She shrugged out of his coat and handed it back.
“Don’t you have a girlfriend you can propose to?”
“No.” The answer was flat and final. “Take until Monday to consider it. I’ll be back in town then. If you take the time to think about it, you’ll see that you’d be helping me immensely. The least I can do is repay the favor.”
It was too practical, too perfect, and too convenient. Perfect plans always ended up getting blown to smithereens and leaving her standing alone after the dust had settled. If her life had taught her anything, it had taught her that.
“Don’t get your hopes up.” Without looking back, she went inside and shut the door.
CHAPTER THREE
ALEX was zipping up her backpack when a car door slammed.
She couldn’t see the vehicle, but a quiver along her spine told her it was him before she even peered out through the peephole. Sure enough, he was skirting around the front of a huge pickup truck. She pressed a hand to her heart, trying to calm the thumping there. He was early. She had planned on him meeting up with her at the pub later. But it was barely ten, and he had obviously remembered where she was staying.
She opened the door before he had time to knock. Connor’s boots halted abruptly, and they stared at each other. She didn’t know what to say, and as the silence stretched out she grew more and more uncomfortable. She chewed on her bottom lip, while he stood so still she could barely make out the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. It was like he was waiting to see what she’d say before he decided what to do. Offering her hand to him seemed silly, a kiss on the cheek presumptuous. She stuffed her hands into her pockets instead.
He was looking very different than he had on Friday. In a very good way. Long, muscled legs filled out faded jeans, and he wore a plain black T-shirt that accentuated the broadness of his torso. Her eyes darted upward; his hair, shaggy at the ends, was as tousled as ever. His forearms, brown from the sun, were lightly sprinkled with hair, tapering to strong wrists. They disappeared into his jeans pockets when he caught her staring at him.
“Good morning.” He smiled, but his eyes were focused on her lips, which she was still biting nervously.
“You’re very prompt.” The words came out more sharply than she’d intended, but the fact of the matter was she was more affected by his appearance than she cared to admit.
His jaw ticked ever so slightly in response to her tone. “I’ve got to be back by lunchtime.”
Wow, wasn’t this romantic? She rested her weight back on a hip. Gee, honey, don’t mean to rush you, but could you answer my proposal so I can get back to the cows? He didn’t say it, but that was how it made her feel. Suddenly she doubted her decision. Things were happening too fast. A week ago she’d just been trying to pay her share of the rent. Today she was actually contemplating moving out to a farm in the middle of nowhere in a bogus marriage to a man she didn’t even know. This was so surreal.
“I don’t mean to rush you.” He tried an encouraging smile instead.
“You think by turning on the charm I’m going to follow along meekly?” Her eyes shot fire at him. “You need to do more than flash your pearly whites to convince me.”
He stepped back, properly chastised. “I beg your pardon,” he responded stiffly.
She couldn’t help it. The whole situation was ludicrous. Her lips curved up slightly in response and she let her eyes twinkle at him. “I would think so.”
She knew the moment he got that she was teasing. His eyes warmed, glowing back at her, and a reluctant smile tugged at his lips.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m ready.” She pulled the backpack out from behind the door and stepped out on to the porch.
“You mean you’ll do it?” His jaw dropped.
She kept her smile in place. She was glad he hadn’t been sure of her; that made what came next a little easier.
“Well, not exactly.”
“I don’t understand. Either you’re coming or not.” He leaned his right arm against the porch pillar, pulling the shirt taut against his ribs.
Alex licked her lips, unsure of how to begin. “I’m not sure marriage is such a good idea. We hardly know each other.” She braved a look into his eyes. “For all I know you’re some wacko, looking for an easy target.”
His gaze was steady on hers. He didn’t laugh, didn’t smile, but took her comment seriously. “And do you really think that?”
“No,” she admitted. “But this is pretty unorthodox, you have to admit.”
“A business dealing, no more. I help you, you help me.”
He made it seem easy, when it wasn’t—not at all. This was her future and her baby’s that she was tampering with. Alex, who hadn’t relied on anyone in years, was suddenly considering becoming dependent on a relative stranger for her security and wellbeing. There was nothing simple about that. The one thing that kept her even considering it was the lack of choices she seemed to have lately.
She stepped back, putting a few extra inches of distance between them. “What I mean is, this is all happening so fast.”
“I know that. Which is why I had an idea this weekend. How about a trial period first? You come up to Windover, stay a while, before you make your decision. If you decide it won’t work, I’ll bring you back here.”
When the strain evaporated from her face like magic, he knew he’d done the right thing.
“I think that is a very sensible approach,” she responded. Her eyes cleared of worry and she treated him to another one of her genuine smiles.
“I certainly don’t want to chain you to the place if you’re going to be miserable for the next…how many months? I thought this might be a way to test the waters.”
“Four months,” she replied thinly. Chained to the place? The place wasn’t worrying her half as much as being chained to him. And it would likely be more than four months. Once the baby came she’d need some time to recover; to figure out what to do next.
Suddenly her eyes narrowed. “How long a trial period?” She knew he was operating on a timeline, and a short one, and she didn’t want to feel pressed to make this decision in the first forty-eight hours, or some silly thing.
“I don’t know. No longer than a week.”
