Inherited: One Baby!. Laura Marie Altom

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Inherited: One Baby! - Laura Marie Altom Mills & Boon American Romance

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I do it two times a night. Ba-bum ching.” Using the ketchup bottle as a microphone, she said in a deep Elvis voice, “Thank you, thank you very much. You can catch my act nightly at the Lonesome Lounge.”

      “This is bad. Very bad.” Leaning her right elbow on the counter, Kelly cupped her chin in her hand. Tapping her cheek with her index finger, she said, “I haven’t seen you this un-funny since the night you heard Jake was leaving for Florida.”

      “What are you talking about?” Candy said, filling two glasses with iced tea. “We celebrated that night. Remember? I sprung for all of us girls to eat the Holiday Motel’s seafood buffet. It was a lot of fun.”

      “Of course, how could I forget a thrill-a-minute evening of culinary delights like crab-flavored chicken wings—not to mention the fact that you must’ve told enough cornball jokes to keep Laffy Taffy in business for the next hundred years. Come on,” Kelly said with a sigh. “It’s me you’re talking to. You can tell me how you really feel.”

      “How many times do I have to say this,” Candy said, putting the mustard and ketchup in the dishwasher. “I feel fine. I’m not the least bit upset about Jake being back in town.” One by one, she started to unload mugs from the top rack and slide them onto the brass hooks beneath the cabinets.

      “Is it because you’re on such an emotional high that you’ve decided to unload the dishes before even washing them?”

      Candy gazed at the assorted dribbles of coffee, tea, and cocoa pooling on the counter. “Crap.”

      “What was that? Miss Sunshine isn’t actually a tad on edge is she?”

      “No,” Candy all but growled.

      “Good, then when you finish reloading all those dirty mugs, you might want to unload the ketchup and mustard.”

      A squeal of pure panic escaped Candy’s lips. “Oh, God. I am a wreck, aren’t I? Kelly, you’ve got to stay through dinner. What am I going to do? Say? I can’t be alone with him. You know what just looking at Jake does to me. I mean, I despise him, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still think he’s the hottest guy on the planet. I mean, you should’ve seen him at the store today, his hair all mussed and that disgustingly handsome chiseled jawline of his all freshly shaven and tanned. And his bod—don’t even get me started on what ten years have done for the man’s physique.” When Candy’s shoulders slumped, her best friend hopped off her stool to enfold her in a hug.

      “Trust me,” Kelly said, “you’re going to be fine. You two were high school sweethearts. You’ve known each other forever. Maybe, just maybe,” she said, brushing away one of Candy’s tears, “he misses you, and that proposal was more real than you think.”

      “Fat chance,” Candy said through one last sniffle. “Even if I wanted to get back together with him—which I don’t—you weren’t here the morning he came home to pick up the last of his stuff. I handed him the shoe box he kept my love letters in, but he told me to keep it, Kel. He told me he didn’t want a single thing in his new life to remind him of me. After that, he walked out. He didn’t even say goodbye.”

      “Thanks,” Kelly said, using a paper towel to blot at her own tears. “Now you’ve got me all choked up, too—and I’m supposed to be the strong one.” She pulled Candy into a fierce hug.

      “Please stay for dinner,” Candy whined. “I’ll make you a steak—oh, and those twice-baked potatoes you love.” A sharp metallic noise called her gaze to the window. “Oh, no, was that a car door?”

      “See ya,” Kelly said, pulling back with a wave of her paper hanky.

      “What about your steak? You love my steaks.”

      Kelly blew her a kiss on her way out the back door. “I also love you, which is why I think it’d be best for you to handle this one on your own. Besides which, not only do I have a watercolor class tonight, but I happen to know for a fact you have nothing in that fridge of yours besides moldy cheese and three-year-old pickles. ’Bye.”

      “Deserter,” Candy mumbled, watching her only link to sanity fairly skip across the backyard.

      The doorbell rang.

      The screen door creaked open. “Candy? You in there?”

      She crossed through the living room on her way to the front door.

      “Hi,” was all she could think to say when, just like when she’d been a new bride watching her groom saunter into the house, Jake’s lopsided grin tumbled her heart.

      “Something smells good,” he said. “What’s for dinner?”

      “Corn dogs.”

      “Yum. My favorite.”

      Had he always been so tall? The room never used to feel cramped when he was in it. And why was she suddenly wishing she’d taken Kelly’s advice and at least made a quick batch of spaghetti? “Sorry I didn’t fix a more substantial meal. I’m basically running low on everything.”

      “Who’s complaining?” he said, gazing around the comfortable room with what she hoped was appreciation.

      They’d bought the once-nearly-condemned Queen Anne not long after their wedding because the payments had been cheaper than rent. The rambling home sat atop a forested hill overlooking Lonesome Lake. Over the years she’d restored the place to its former glory, and though she couldn’t fathom why, it meant a lot to her that Jake liked what she’d done.

      Licking her lips, she said, “A lot’s changed around here since you left.”

      “I’ll say.” He let loose with a low whistle. “It actually looks cozy instead of like the poorest frat house on campus. What happened to the cement-block bookshelves and Goldilocks—that old gold sofa we had to prop up with leftover bathroom tiles?”

      “They died. They’re now at the city dump, resting in peace beside a lovely retired couple. You might know them. The Kenmores? Adorable pair of washer and dryers. Used to live over on Pecan Lane in a yellow ranch.”

      Jake’s chuckle caught Candy off guard, filling her with velvety images of the past. Breakfasts and dinners shared upon a wobbly sawhorse table. Saturday night candlelit bubble baths, exchanging off-color jokes as to why the hot water pipes groaned. For a second, Candy’s world felt right again, the way it used to. Back in the days when if only she could make Jake laugh, everything would be okay.

      A pang shot through her at the realization of just how not okay those old days had turned out to be.

      Since the last thing she wanted Jake knowing was how topsy-turvy his presence made her feel, she played tour guide. “On the left, you’ll see my sort-of-new sofa. Note the soft floral chintz. Always a big hit during the occasional bridal shower I get wheedled into hosting. And to the right, we have a real, live bookshelf/entertainment unit—I’m still working on the entertainment part.”

      “Nice,” Jake said with a slow nod. “But how do you see what’s on TV? It’s awfully small. I didn’t even know they made that size for home use.”

      “Well, now you do. Besides, it suits me just fine since now that the house is done, my nights are usually spent reading or doing the shop’s books.”

      “That’s

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