Tanya Michaels - An Unlikely Mommy

As he walked back across the street, he found himself hoping that Wanda didn’t regret the open-ended offer of assistance. It was already becoming clear he’d have a lot of questions to deal with. Now that he was working with Emily on the concept of potty training and she was old enough to start voicing questions, he was increasingly aware of situations that he, as someone of the opposite gender, didn’t feel equipped to handle.

Recalling Principal Schonrock’s entreaties to bring a date to the Spring Fling, Jason made a face. He needed a woman, all right—not for some school dance, but someone who could braid hair and tackle delicate scenarios with a light touch. Emily was growing so fast that, before he knew it, she’d be a young woman getting her first—

Sheer panic filled him, so he squelched the thought immediately. Toddlerhood was terrifying enough; he didn’t even want to contemplate puberty. One day at a time. It wasn’t the most original or inspiring motto, but it had brought him this far. Whatever life threw at him next, he’d handle.

His daughter was counting on him.

SINCE SHE WASN’T SCHEDULED to work this particular Saturday, Ronnie had planned to use today to pack. Yet it had taken depressingly little time to box up her belongings.

Her father had shocked her that morning when he’d suggested she take the dining room table and china cabinet with her. “Your mama would’ve wanted to you to have them.”

“Oh, I can’t!” She’d glanced around the room, appalled by the thought of a big empty space. “I appreciate the thought, Daddy, but my place is too small. Besides, where would everyone sit at Thanksgiving and Easter and plain ol’ family dinners?”

Speaking of this evening’s looming supper…Her brothers had been suspiciously silent on the subject of Jason McDeere since teasing her at the beginning of the week. Lulling you into a false sense of security, no doubt. Heckling was a Carter family tradition, and she wondered what might be said later. Especially since insightful Kaitlyn, who had first clued Danny in about Ronnie’s unspoken feelings, would be present. Ronnie still couldn’t believe her sister-in-law had said anything without first broaching the subject with Ronnie herself. Sharing thoughts with a spouse must trump gal-pal confidences.

At any rate, there wasn’t much left to pack that she wouldn’t need between now and the move, so Ronnie decided to get out of the house for a few hours. Cranking up an old Bon Jovi CD she’d found while emptying out her desk, she drove to the town’s main hardware supply store. She wanted to start thinking about the specific changes she planned to make, putting together a list of priorities and a preliminary budget.

Once inside the spacious warehouse, she grabbed a cart. Armed with a notepad of scribbled measurements and a calculator, she began at the far left, intending to make her way systematically across the aisles. She was only four rows in, however, when she halted. Her breath caught in her throat.

Jason McDeere.

He was standing in front of a section of white plastic strips dotted in colorful squares representing paint shades. Apparently he was interested in one of the color schemes on a lower shelf, because he’d bent over for a closer look. She couldn’t help but notice the way the denim of his jeans—

“Veronica.” He straightened, giving her a smile that was just a touch self-conscious.

“Hello.” Too formal. “Hi.” Yeah, that was better. “Hi.” Except that now she’d greeted him three times and was probably coming off as manic. On the plus side, anything she said from here on out was bound to be an improvement as long as she didn’t say it in triplicate. “How’s it going?”

“Okay, I guess.” He ran a hand through that thick hair—light brown with touches of burnished gold. “I consider myself an educated man, but hell if I can tell you the difference between ‘apricot’ and ‘tangerine.’ Or ‘cranberry’ and ‘pomegranate.’”

She laughed, a combination of nerves and genuine amusement. “Are you wanting to paint something, or make a fruit salad?”

“Exactly!” Moving closer, he extended a strip with various shades of green. “Kiwi? Honeydew? They can’t just call it yellow-green?”

“Maybe they thought they could charge more for honeydew.”

He nodded, studying the selection in front of him with befuddled exasperation. “I always thought choice was a good thing, but this is overwhelming. Where do I start? Now I know how my students feel when I tell them to pick a topic for their research paper each semester.”

“You could try flipping a coin. It’s what my brother Dev would do.” But she was secretly pleased that Jason approached decisions more thoughtfully.

“Better yet, I could get a second opinion. Help a guy out, Veronica?”

Something rippled through her, a foreign intimacy at hearing her name again from his lips. “Actually, it’s just Ronnie. Hardly anyone’s called me Veronica since my mom died.”

“Ronnie, then.” After a moment, he asked gently, “Do you still miss her?”

“Some days more than others.” Was he thinking of his grandmother? “Have I ever told you how sorry I was for your loss? Sophie was a lovely person.”

He smiled. “She was, wasn’t she? I like to think she’s with Grandpa Bert now. I don’t think she ever truly got over him.”

Ronnie thought back to the photo of her mom in her dad’s office. “Some people really do find that once-in-a-lifetime true love, don’t they?”

This time, his smile was tinged with the barest hint of bitterness. “I might be the wrong person to ask.”

Stupid, she chided herself. In light of his divorce, her babbling was probably insensitive. “So, um, paint samples?” Smooth segue. Yeah, it’s a real mystery why you never date.

He glanced down at the stick in his hand as if he’d forgotten he held it. “Right. I’ve been putting off drastic changes to Gran’s house because it seemed somehow disrespectful to her memory, but I can’t ignore the needed repairs. There’s one section of the roof I should reinforce so we don’t end up with a leak, and the whole place could use some updating. My bedroom definitely needs a change.”

Mine, too. It needs a man in it. Ronnie blinked, as horrified by the uncensored thought as if she’d said it aloud. She tried to squelch the idea, but when she glanced into Jason’s eyes her nebulous fantasies took on new clarity. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cursed her redhead’s fair complexion so thoroughly. He’d have to be blind not to notice she was blushing. There was a question in his eyes, but he didn’t voice it.

Doing her best to sound nonchalant, she asked, “Then you’re planning to paint your room?”

“Probably. The wallpaper that’s in there now has got to go. No offense to Gran’s taste, but I’m not really a roses kind of guy.”

She smiled. “When I was seven, my mother painted my room pink, hung frilly white curtains and got lacy pillow covers for my bed.”

“Sounds like my daughter’s idea of heaven,” he said.

“Yeah, well, I coveted the monster truck decor in Will’s room. So I empathize on not loving the roses.” It occurred to her that as lone occupant of her new house, she could fix up the entire place in a monster-truck motif. She chuckled at the image.

Jason raised an eyebrow. “What’s funny?”

“It’s silly.”

“Try me. I have a two-year-old, I’m fluent in silly.”

“I’m buying my first house this week,” she said. Just saying it out loud sent joy glowing through her. “I suddenly pictured all the rooms done in that truck theme I wanted when I was a kid.”

He grinned. “I’m starting to think maybe I shouldn’t ask your decorating advice.”