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 is graduating from high school.”
“Is your sister pregnant again?”
The telltale blush that momentarily stole over her face gave him his answer. Mellie’s sister, Linda, was nothing short of a baby factory, producing a baby a year for the past four years.
“Yes, but that has nothing to do with my decision to get pregnant,” she replied tersely.
He knew better. He knew that each new baby born into the Watters family had increased Mellie’s desire for a child of her own.
Before he could reply, he spied MaryAnn Bartel entering the diner. She was dressed to kill in a pair of tight black jeans and a hot-pink midriff top the size of a bandage. Her eyes widened in delight at the sight of him, and he steeled himself for yet another encounter with a mad cow contestant.
“Bailey,” she squealed, her thick perfume reaching him before she did. Her smile faltered as she saw Melanie. “Oh, hi, Melanie. So, it’s true? The two of you are engaged?”
Bailey knew now was his chance to set the record straight, to explain to MaryAnn that the rumor about him and Melanie was false. But he saw the light of fanaticism in her bright blue eyes, the tiny sparkles in their depths appearing like tiny tiaras.
He had a sudden vision of his life in the next six weeks, a life inundated with stress because of the stupid Miss Dairy Cow Contest. He also thought of his mother, who had become an irritating broken record on the topic of wanting a grandchild.
A temporary marriage to Mellie would solve a host of problems. There would certainly be no surprises with Mellie. He knew her as well as he knew himself, and he couldn’t imagine anything ruining their friendship, not even a marriage, a pregnancy and a subsequent divorce.
“It’s true,” he said, and saw the surprise that lit Mellie’s eyes. He smiled at her, hoping that neither of them came to regret the split-second decision he’d made to follow through on her crazy scheme.
Chapter Three
It was just another Friday. That’s what Melanie told herself as she stepped outside of the school building and into the warm late-afternoon sunshine.
It was just a usual Friday afternoon. Bailey would pick her up from school, they’d go to the video store and rent a couple of movies, then go back to his house and eat popcorn and watch the movies.
They had spent countless Friday nights this way, and never had she felt the dancing of butterflies in the pit of her stomach. Of course, never before had they stopped on the way to the video store at the county clerk’s office to get a marriage license.
There was absolutely no reason to be nervous, she told herself. This was what she had wanted, and it was a perfect plan for both of them. Still, no amount of rational thought seemed to still the jitters inside her.
She supposed it was natural. It wasn’t every day she promoted the idea of a temporary marriage to a man. She walked to the curb as she spied Bailey’s maroon pickup truck approaching.
He pulled to a halt at the curb and reached over to open the door for her. The first thing she noticed when she slid into the vehicle was that he wasn’t wearing his jeans, but rather was clad in a pair of navy dress slacks and a pinstriped short-sleeved dress shirt.
Funny. She usually wore slacks to school, but had opted for a dress today. It was as if someplace in the back of their minds they’d decided this day deserved better wear than usual.
“Changed your mind yet?” he asked the moment she got into the truck.
“No. Have you?”
“At least a hundred times since last night,” he admitted. He shot her one of his grins that made his dimple appear, near the right side of his mouth. “But each time I decided not to go through with it, my mother’s strident voice would fill my head.”
Melanie grinned. “And what is your mother’s voice saying?”
“The usual. When am I going to get married again. If I’d married a local girl the first time I might not be divorced. She’ll be dead and in her grave before I finally settle down and give her grandchildren.” He pulled away from the curb. “Trust me, Melanie, be grateful you have a sister. Being an only child can definitely be a burden.”
“What is she going to say when we get divorced?” Melanie asked, trying not to notice how the sunshine drifting through the truck window shone on his rich, dark hair.
“I think after two strikes she’ll finally get off my back about being single.”
“And she’ll have a grandchild to dote on,” Melanie reminded him.
He parked in front of the county clerk’s office. He turned in his seat to look at her. “Mellie, before we go inside, I think we need to talk about some things.”
“Like what?”
“If we get the license now, then I figure on Saturday we can go to Jeb Walker’s and he can marry us.” Jeb Walker was the local justice of the peace. “I’m assuming you’ll be moving in with me. I’m not about to move into that tiny apartment of yours.”
Melanie hadn’t thought that far ahead. Of course they would have to live together, and with Bailey’s veterinarian practice and nice ranch house, it made sense that she would move in there. The thought of moving in with him suddenly made their plans more real than anything else had before, and once again butterflies danced in her stomach.
“I probably should just keep paying rent on the apartment even though I won’t be there for a month or two,” she said thoughtfully. “Oh, and before I forget it, Mom called and asked if I’d pick up a prescription for her at the drugstore and drop it by on the way to your house.”
“No