Kara Lennox - The Pregnancy Surprise

Reece’s previously pristine car was now caved in on the right side, the passenger door inoperable.

Well, Reece would just have to understand. It could have happened to anyone, and the important thing was that no one was hurt.

She hoped he would see it that way.

Sara dropped her cell phone into her bag and went back inside to check on Miss Greer. She didn’t know if the older woman was waking up yet or not, but she might be. She really ought not to have fibbed to Reece, though. That was a bad habit, telling little white lies. As her father always said, a lie was a lie and the size was immaterial.

Miss Greer woke a short time later, but she was in a lot of pain. Sara spent the rest of the morning tracking down a doctor who could prescribe something that would make the poor woman more comfortable, then hanging around to make sure the nurses gave it to her. After that, when Miss Greer’s lunch was delivered, Sara had to coax the elderly woman to eat a few bites.

It was something of a full-time job, making sure Miss Greer got the care she needed. By the time she was fully awake, adequately fed and reasonably pain-free all at the same time, it was almost dark.

Sara probably should have checked in with Reece again, but she’d aggressively put him out of her mind while she kept busy with Miss Greer. She hoped he was getting along all right taking care of the guests; he’d sounded okay earlier. Breakfast was the hardest part; she was sure he could make up beds and run the vacuum.

Although, come to think of it, she hadn’t reminded him he needed to do those things. Since he’d been a guest for some time, he probably knew the drill. But men were a little dense when it came to housework. Some she’d known obviously thought the elves came in at night and cleaned.

It was almost dark by the time she pulled Reece’s Mercedes onto Magnolia Street and parked it across the road from the Sunsetter, close to some bushes. Maybe the damage wouldn’t look so bad in the dark. Reece wasn’t an excitable type; he would probably be calm and reasonable about the whole thing.

Her hopes were dashed when she spotted him pacing on the front porch, his cell phone glued to his ear.

He saw her then and snapped his phone shut. He had started toward her as she got out of the car, and she quavered a bit at the thunderous expression on his face.

“Sara, where have you been? I’ve been worried sick about you. I’ve been calling your cell phone all day.”

“I can’t keep it turned on inside the hospital,” she reminded him.

He stopped inches from her and placed his fists on his lean hips. “You couldn’t check your messages every once in a while?”

“Sorry. I guess I was pretty focused on taking care of Miss Greer.” Yeah, right. She was such a saint. She’d deliberately left her phone off because she knew Reece would be frantic about his car.

“So what happened to the car?” he asked, finally taking his laserlike gaze off her and aiming it at the Mercedes.

“I had a-” she swallowed, her mouth feeling as if it was full of shredded wheat “-a small accident.”

“Accident?”

“Just a small one.”

Reece eyed the car from bumper to bumper and, apparently seeing no damage, walked around to the other side.

Sara knew the moment he saw the crunched-in door. She longed to flee to the safety of her room, where she wouldn’t have to endure his anger. But one thing her parents had taught her-and that had sunk in-was that she had to take responsibility for her actions.

“How did this happen?”

“Someone backed into me in the parking lot.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “So it wasn’t your fault?”

She shook her head. “The guy apologized all over the place.”

“You have a police report?”

Again she shook her head. “We exchanged information.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a rumpled piece of paper onto which she’d written the man’s name, phone number and driver’s license number.

Reece walked back around to the street and took the paper from her. He examined it briefly before meticulously creasing it and placing it in his wallet. “I can’t believe you wrecked my new car.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“Maybe not technically, but you drive like you do everything else.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Full throttle, damn the consequences.”

He turned and walked back into the house without a backward glance.

His attack was so unfair, and his harsh judgment cut her to the bone. But Sara resisted the juvenile urge to cry. She’d learned not to. When she was little, and her father yelled at her for some sin, real or imagined, she couldn’t help the tears. But crying only made everything worse. If she cried, her father would just scold her for crying, too. He’d told her not to be a crybaby.

Reece was not her father, she reminded herself. But she didn’t like this self-righteous side of him.

He hadn’t even tried to listen or show some understanding. He’d gotten in the last word and walked away.

Now they had this thing between them.

Realizing she couldn’t stand in the street forever, she moved her leaden feet toward the front porch. This hadn’t been the best day of her life, but neither had it been the worst. Stuff happened. She would go into the kitchen, fix up a nice soup and maybe even show Reece she was a bigger person than he was by offering to share. Then she would get everything ready for breakfast tomorrow. She would have to return to the hospital tomorrow morning to make sure Miss Greer was doing okay, but she could wait until after breakfast was served.

She had no idea how she would get to Corpus Christi, but she would figure something out. Maybe Allie would loan Sara her car. She seldom needed it during the day, when she was out on her boat running one of her charter trips.

The B and B guests were all in the living room when Sara entered the house, drinking cocktails and talking about where they would have dinner that night.

Had Reece served them the wine? Miss Greer kept a few bottles of inexpensive wine around, usually to serve the guests on their first night at the B and B.

“Oh, Sara,” said Mrs. Silverstein, who had stayed at the Sunsetter many times, “how is Miss Greer doing?”

“Much better,” Sara answered with a smile. “She’s looking forward to learning to walk with her new hip.”

“I got a new hip last year,” said Mrs. Benedict, doing a couple of shallow knee bends to show how flexible she was. “Best thing I ever did for myself. Miss Greer is going to love it!”

Sara felt cheered by the news. Mrs. Benedict was at least as old as Miss Greer, and she was still active. Hopefully Miss Greer still had several good, productive years to look forward to.

“Does anyone need anything before I head to the kitchen?” Sara asked.

The youngest woman in the room, who by process of elimination must be Mrs. Taylor, gave a sultry smile. “Reece has been taking very good care of us.”

“Yes,” Mrs. Silverstein said. “That new boy you hired is doing very well for himself. The breakfast he served was marvelous!”

Sara stopped herself before she could point out that she was the one who had cooked the breakfast. That would be petty. But it gave her a little pang to realize she could be replaced in the guests’ affections so easily.

Sara entered the kitchen expecting it to be a disaster, but Reece had apparently cleaned everything up after breakfast. That was a first. She’d never known a man who would set foot in the kitchen, much less clean it.

Goodness, he’d even run the dishwasher.

She opened the door of the industrial-size dishwasher, pulled out the lower rack intending to put away the dishes, and let out an involuntary shriek.