I smile, because my words are still lodged in my throat.
Evan places his large hand on the small of my back. “If you don’t mind, can we stop by the stables on the way back? I want to see if Aaron and your dad need any help.”
“Sure,” I manage to say. Evan is one of the good guys through and through. Why does he have to be my brother’s best friend? I can say with 100 percent certainty that if he weren’t, I would have already thrown myself at him.
I lead Evan outside and to my new SUV. “Wow, is this yours?” he asks.
“Yeah, my old Honda has seen better days. Business is good at the studio, so I thought it was time. It’s kind of embarrassing pulling up to a shoot driving a beat-up old Honda Accord. This is more professional. I also have a ton of room to travel with props and equipment.”
“It’s nice. What made you go with a Durango?” he asks.
“I loved the way it drives, which is important, but it has a great sound system. I was thinking, for the outdoor shoots, I could use that to help whoever it is I’m photographing relax a little. It’s also four-wheel drive, so I can pretty much drive it to the majority of the on-site locations. However, I do have one up on the ridge out by Miller’s place in a few weeks, so that one will be impossible to drive to.”
“Miller’s old place. Todd Miller?” he asks.
“Yep, he’s proposing to his longtime girlfriend. He wants me hiding in the background to photograph the entire thing. The ridge is where he took her on their first date.”
“Huh. You don’t think she’s going to be mad to find out you’ve been hiding in the shadows during a personal moment like that?” he asks.
“Nope. It’s romantic that he wants to capture the moment. I’m going to take a few posed shots of them up on the ridge as well.”
“I can see how much you love it.”
“I really do. It doesn’t feel like a job, and I hope it never does. I love the flexible schedule. When I’m settled down with kids, it will be even more convenient,” I blurt out. I have no idea why I’m saying these things to him. I guess I feel more comfortable because he’s going to be a father soon. “How are your parents? Grandparents?” I ask him, quickly changing the subject.
“Good. Dad’s weak. The chemo takes a lot out of him. He, Grandpa, and I went fishing. It was nice to spend time with them. Mom and Grandma bought that big-ass suitcase and filled it with lots of pink.” He laughs. “Burp cloths, was that on my list? And onesies?” he asks.
I can’t help but chuckle at him. “Yeah, some use receiving blankets for burp cloths, and onesies are a very important part of a baby’s wardrobe,” I reply.
Evan’s quiet in the seat next to me. “Hey,” I say, taking a quick glance over at him. “You okay?”
I hear him release a heavy sigh. Glancing over again, I see his eyes are shut and his head is resting back against the seat. Reaching over, I lay my hand on top of his. I know this is hard for him, and I wish I had the words to make it all better.
He doesn’t say a word. He just laces his fingers through mine, and that’s how we drive the rest of the way to the stables.
Chapter 13
Evan
After checking to see if Aaron and Jerry need anything, McKinley drives me home. I’m surprised when she turns the engine off. Don’t get me wrong, I want her here, but I’m fighting what feels like a losing battle to stay away from her. Today, just the simple things like asking about my family and reaching over to hold my hand. She’s just…there, and I feel myself slipping more each day.
“I kind of have a surprise for you. I want to see your face when you see it,” she admits with a soft blush crossing her cheeks. I want to lean over this fucking console and taste her lips. Instead, I nod and climb out of her SUV. She opens the back, so I can retrieve my luggage, and follows me up the stairs. I’m digging in my pocket for my key when she says, “I got it.”
I watch her take my key, which is on her keyring, and open my front door. The act is all kinds of domestic and everything I realize I’m starting to crave with her.
McKinley steps inside and turns on the lights. I place my bags in the foyer and follow her into the living room. The room is covered in gift bags—mostly pink and all representing a baby. “What is all this?” I ask as I walk further into the room.
McKinley is sitting on the floor in the middle of all the bags, wearing a smile---my smile. The one she saves for me. At least that’s what I tell myself. I don’t ever see her share it with anyone else.
“This is for you and your daughter. Mom and the ladies at the church had a great-granddaughter shower for your Grandma Ethel.”
“They didn’t have to do that,” I say in a low voice. I feel like a chick for how emotional this gesture is making me.
“No, they didn’t. They wanted to, Evan. Having a baby is a big deal. You’re going to have this little person who not only needs lots of love and attention, but a lot of other stuff too. It’s a rite of passage to have a baby shower. We knew we could never convince you to let us have one for you, so we enlisted your grandma.”
Kicking off my boots, I take a seat across from her on the floor. “Kinley, I don’t…”
“I know, Evan,” she says softly.
I want to kiss her. I want to lean in and capture her lips, bruise them with my kiss. This girl…
“So,” she clears her throat, tearing me away from my inappropriate thoughts, “I was going to put it all away, but then I changed my mind. I know Misty’s not in the picture and this is all so unconventional, so I was kind of thinking you and I could go through it all. That way you will know what you have, and it will be like you were at the shower, only it’s just the two of us.”
Just the two of us, if she only knew the images those words cause in my mind.
“I’d like that,” I finally say.
“Yay!” She claps her hands and hands me a bag. We spend the next hour going through each gift. She’s glowing with excitement---excitement for me and my daughter. This girl is wrecking me.
“Now we get to pack it all upstairs.” She grins at me. “Oh, maybe we should take all the tags off the clothes and blankets. I’ll pick up some detergent tomorrow, and then we can wash it before we put it all away. We’ll know everything in her room is good to go.”
We.
She’s including herself into my world; into my daughter’s world. I quickly stand to keep myself under control.
“I have detergent,” I say, heading to the kitchen for a pair of scissors.
“You need special detergent for babies. They have sensitive skin. You don’t have to use it forever, but the first several months at least,” she explains.
“And you know all of this how?” I ask her. I need to keep her talking to keep my mind off what I really want to do to her.
“It’s a gift.” She smiles.
After another hour of removing tags, we have two piles. One pile of laundry and one pile of everything else. “I’ll grab a basket.” I climb to my feet and head upstairs to the laundry room.
I find Kinley in the kitchen. The counter is now covered with bottles, what I just recently learned was a bottle brush, plates, cups, forks, and spoons—all the baby stuff that goes in the kitchen. “I wasn’t sure where you wanted it, so I just left it here.” She points to the counter.