names. Maybe you could do that for me.”
“Uh-huh. How much are you paying?”
“I’m not paying anything.” Bob assumed a look of martyred superiority. “This is a civic project to benefit the town. I thought maybe you’d do it out of a sense of community.”
Olivia opened her mouth to tell him she didn’t have a sense of community, that she wasn’t really part of the town, she was only passing through. But that wasn’t exactly true anymore, was it? The people in Eureka were involving her in their lives whether she wanted them to or not. Just last week one of Lucas’s teachers had asked her to volunteer at some harvest festival thing the school was having. And today Janelle and Danielle had asked her to paint the mural. People treated her as if she belonged here.
Her stomach fluttered at the thought. Olivia Theriot, citizen of a hick town like Eureka, Colorado? Six months ago, if anyone had suggested such a thing, she’d have laughed them out of the room.
How scary was it that now she actually—sort of—liked the idea?
“I’m fine.” Jameso sat up and clutched the side of his head, which had hit the ground hard when he fainted.
“You’re not fine. You passed out.” Maggie pried his hand away from his face and frowned at the golf-ball-sized knot rising above his temple. “Your head must have hit a rock.”
“I’m fine,” he said again more forcefully. “It was just the shock, that’s all. You shouldn’t spring a thing like that on a guy all of a sudden.”
“What was I supposed to do?” She sat back on her heels. “Suggest a game of twenty questions? Guess what I’ve got cooking in the oven?”
He stared at her belly, the lines on his forehead forming a deep V. “Are you really pregnant?”
“No, I made it up to scare you. Yes, I’m pregnant. Three pregnancy tests all came up positive.”
“When’s it due?” He still wasn’t smiling, and she wasn’t sure she liked the way he said “it,” as if he was referring to an alien or something.
She stood and stared down on him, at the crooked part in his hair and the cowlick at the crown. Would her baby have a cowlick like that? “I won’t know for sure until I see a doctor. I have an appointment in Montrose next week. But I’m guessing around the first of June.”
“Wow.”
“Is that all you can say? Wow?”
“What do you want me to say?”
That he was happy. Thrilled, even. That he loved her. Instead, he couldn’t even look her in the eye.
“You could come up with something better than ‘wow.’ ” She turned away, arms folded across her chest. She’d so hoped he wouldn’t disappoint her this way; though obviously, she’d been delusional. He was a man, and men disappointed her. At least all the ones she’d been involved with so far. Why should Jameso be different?
“Now you’re angry.” He got his feet under him and stood. “You’re not giving me enough time to absorb the information.”
“Take me home,” she said.
“This is a big shock,” he said. “I never thought.”
“Did you think I was too old to get pregnant?” She was eight years older than Jameso, something that had worried her from the beginning, though he and Barb had both told her it didn’t make any difference. But maybe it had. Maybe he liked her being older because he’d thought it made her safe from complications like this.
“I never thought about it one way or another.” He put his hand on her shoulder, the touch almost tentative. “When we made love, the last thing on my mind was babies.”
She hadn’t been thinking about babies then either. Jameso Clark, naked, did not bring to mind images of cuddly infants in diapers. She fought to ignore the rush of heat at those memories. “You’d better think about it now,” she said. “It’s happening.”
He bent and kissed her cheek, the softness of his goatee brushing her face. “I just need a little more time to think.”
To think about what? Was he going to ride off on that motorcycle and never come back—the way her father had run away after she was born? Jameso had been Jake’s best friend in Eureka. She’d heard enough stories to see how much the two men had in common. Maybe an aversion to parenthood was another thing they shared.
She cradled her stomach and closed her eyes. She hadn’t planned on being a single mother, but she could do it if she had to.
“What’s wrong?” Jameso asked, his face growing pale again. “Are you in pain?”
Only in my heart, she thought. “Take me home,” she said again.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be alone. Do you want me to call someone?”
She noticed he wasn’t offering to stay with her himself. She met his worried gaze with a freezing look. “No, you don’t need to call anyone. I’m pregnant. I’m not ill. And I’ll take care of this baby just fine. By myself.”
Without waiting for him to answer, she stalked ahead of him toward his truck. She didn’t need him. She’d done fine without her father. Without Carter, her first husband. She’d do fine with this baby. Barb was right. She had a lot of friends. She had a whole town that would help her.
CHAPTER THREE
Lucille sat at the old-fashioned dressing table and tried not to notice the lines feathering out from the corners of her eyes and along the sides of her mouth as she put the finishing touches on her makeup. Those lines hadn’t been there the last time she’d been on a date. Then again, she was pretty sure Reagan was president the last time she had a date, and all her dresses and tops had big shoulder pads.
Gerald obviously didn’t mind a few lines. After all, he looked older than she was and he’d asked her out. She picked up a pair of earrings and held them up to her cheek. She’d borrowed them from Olivia’s room, thinking the long beaded dangles matched her outfit, but now she wondered if the long strands of beads emphasized the length of her face—or worse, that they looked too young. As if she was trying too hard.
“What are you doing?”
The mirror reflected Olivia, who was leaning in the doorway, frowning. The girl frowned too much. All right, she was a grown woman, but she’d always be a girl to her mother. “I have a date,” Lucille said. “I was trying to decide if these earrings look ridiculous.”
“Those are my earrings.”
Lucille laid them aside and reached for her usual pearl drops. “Yes, and I think they look much better on you.”
“Who are you going out with?” Olivia moved into the room and stood at Lucille’s shoulder.
“His name is Gerald Pershing. He’s visiting here in town.”
“I know who you’re talking about. He’s been in the Dirty Sally. He drinks scotch. Dewar’s with water, no ice.”
Lucille shouldn’t have been surprised; everyone made it into the town’s only bar eventually. Even teetotalers ventured in to eat burgers or grilled cheese sandwiches on Tuesday nights when the Last Dollar was closed.
“What did you think of him?” She kept her voice light, but held her breath as she waited for the answer, watching Olivia’s face in the mirror.
Olivia wrinkled her nose. “He’s too slick and charming. And those teeth have got to be caps.”
“There’s nothing wrong with a man who cares about his appearance.”
“I guess not. But I don’t trust him.” She looked her mother up and down. “I don’t remember you going out with anyone since I’ve