Michelle Major - Her Accidental Engagement

Julia stopped in her tracks. Even though she’d worried about her mother finding out, hearing Lainey say it made her knees quiver the tiniest bit. “Mom knows? I thought she just got back.”

“She knows,” Lainey answered with an eye roll. “I think she’s waiting for you to call and explain yourself.”

Another layer of dread curled in the pit of Julia’s stomach. Her mother would support her. Vera was a big part of Charlie’s life and would fight tooth and nail to protect him. But she understood Julia’s limitations better than anyone. Julia didn’t want to know if her mom had any doubts about her ability to give Charlie a good life on her own.

Now was the time to come clean, but with Charlie in her arms, she couldn’t bring herself to voice her fears. It might make them too real.

“I’ll call her. She’ll understand. I’ll make her understand.”

Lainey only smiled. “Good luck.”

Julia needed a lot more than luck.

* * *

She tried to ignore the persistent knocking at her apartment door later that night. She hadn’t called her mother and silently debated whether Vera would make the twenty-minute drive to Julia’s apartment to rake her over the coals in person.

But Charlie had just fallen asleep after six verses of “The Wheels on the Bus,” and Julia wasn’t going to risk the noise waking him, so she opened the door, prepared for the mother–daughter smackdown of the century.

Sam stood in the hallway watching her.

Even better.

“Long day, Chief. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She tried to close the door but he shoved his foot into the opening. Blast those steel-toed boots.

He held up a white cardboard box and a six-pack of beer. “It’s been a long day for both of us. We eat first and then dig ourselves out of this mess.”

She sniffed the air. “Pepperoni?”

“With extra cheese.”

She took a step back and he eased around her into the tiny apartment. It actually didn’t feel so small with just her and Charlie in it. Somehow, Sam not only filled the room but used more than his fair share of the oxygen in it. Julia drew a shaky breath and led the way to the small dining area.

“Sorry,” she apologized automatically as she picked macaroni noodles from the maple tabletop. “Charlie’s been practicing his QB skills at mealtime.”

“Nothing wrong with starting early. Where’s the little guy?”

“Asleep. Finally.”

Sam put the box on the table and handed her a beer as he cocked his head. “Is that classical music?”

“Beethoven.”

“Sounds different than I remember. More animated.”

She picked up a remote and pointed it at the television on the other side of the room. “It’s a Junior Genius DVD.”

“Come again?”

“A program designed to increase a young child’s brain activity.” She clicked off the television. “They have research to show that it works.”

His brows rose. “I still hear music.”

She felt color creep into her cheeks. “I play a Mozart disc as he falls asleep.” She walked past him to the kitchen and pulled two plates from a cabinet.

“Are you a classical-music fan?”

She spun around and stalked back to the table. “Why? Do you think classical is too highbrow for someone like me? Would it make more sense if I was a Toby Keith groupie?”

He took a step back and studied her. “First off, don’t hate on Toby Keith. Secondly, it was a question.” He waved one hand in the direction of the bookcases that flanked the television. “You have more classical CDs on your shelves than I’ve seen in my entire life. It’s a logical assumption.”

“Sorry.” She sighed. “I like some composers but it’s mainly for Charlie. I figure he needs all the help he can get, living with me. You may have heard I’m not the sharpest knife in the drawer.”

“Is that so?”

“It’s a well-known fact in town. My mom will tell you I have ‘street smarts.’” She met his gaze with a wry smile. “I’m sure any number of my former friends would be happy to tell you how I skated through school by charming teachers or bullying other students into helping me.” She broke off as Sam watched her, worrying that she’d somehow given him a clue into her defective inner self. She plastered on a saucy smile and stretched up her arms in an exaggerated pose. “At that point my life’s ambition was to be a supermodel.”

“Personally, I wanted to be Eddie Van Halen.” He shrugged. “Were you really a bully?”

“I like to remember it as a benevolent dictatorship. I had my reasons, but have discovered that the kids I ordered around back in the day have become adults who are more than happy to see the golden girl taken down a few pegs.” She opened the pizza box and pulled out a slice, embarrassed at her silly adolescent dream. “I was the ring leader and the ‘pretty one’ in Brevia, but couldn’t cut it in the big leagues.”

“You started over. There’s nothing wrong with that. People do it all the time.”

“Right. I went to beauty school, dated a string of losers, partied too much and tried to live below my potential.” She tipped her beer in a mock toast. “And that’s pretty low.”

“Somebody did a number on you, sweetheart. Because the way you handled that mess at the salon today took some clever negotiation skills. Not the work of a fool.”

“We’ll see what Val thinks once Ida spins it.” She slid a piece of pizza onto his plate. “Sit down and eat. Unless the pizza was a ruse to get in the door so you could rip my head off without the neighbors hearing. Might be easier than going through with your grand proposal.”

His knee brushed against her bare leg as he folded himself into the chair across from her. It occurred to Julia that she was wearing only boxer shorts and a faded Red Hot Chili Peppers T-shirt with no bra. Bad choice for tonight.

“Such violent thoughts,” he said, sprinkling a packet of cheese flakes on his pizza.

She sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. As soon as she’d realized she was braless, her nipples had sprung to attention as if to yell “over here, look at us.” Not something she wanted Sam to notice in a million years.

“Why did you do it? This crazy situation is your fault.”

He frowned. “You weren’t exactly convincing as the levelheaded, responsible parent. You were about to dive across the table and take out the grandma.”

“She deserved it.” Julia popped out of her chair and grabbed a fleece sweatshirt from a hook near the hallway, trying not to let her belly show as she pulled it over her head. “But I didn’t need to be rescued. Especially not by Three Strikes Sam.” She sat back in her chair and picked up the pizza. “We’re quite a pair. Do you really think anyone is going to believe you’re engaged, given your reputation?”

“What reputation, and who is Three Strikes Sam?”

She finished her bite. “You don’t know? Brevia is a small town. But we’ve got more than our share of single ladies. Apparently the long line of women you’ve dated since you arrived has banded together. The story is that you don’t go on more than three dates with one woman. You’ve got your own fan club here in town. The ladies blog, tweet and keep track of you on Facebook. They call you Three Strikes Sam.”

Sam felt as though he’d been kneed in the family jewels. Never mind the social-media insanity, what shocked him more was that Julia acted as if she knew the details of his dating history. That possibility was fright-night scary.

“You’re making it up.”

“I’m not that creative. You can log on to my computer and see for yourself. I only found out a couple of weeks ago, when Jean Hawkins was in the salon.”

Sam swallowed hard. Jean was the dispatcher for the county sheriff’s office. They’d had a couple of casual dinners last month but had agreed not to take it further. Or so he’d thought.