Chapter Six
Willow had seen a lot in her life, but she’d never seen anything like this—Randall Custard wearing a frilly white apron, listening intently while Granddad explained the fine art of tempering chocolate. All their anger was gone. All their animosity had disappeared.
From feud to friendship in one-minute flat.
Jax needed to write a book. He’d sell a million copies.
“You’re smiling,” he murmured, and she met his eyes, saw that he was watching her as intently as she’d been watching Granddad and Randall.
“It’s good to see them getting along for a change.”
“We’re not getting along,” Granddad corrected. “We’re working.”
Randall nodded, but he was measuring scoops of chocolate pieces into a double boiler with a fierce intensity that didn’t seem to leave room for words.
“That’s the way, son,” Granddad said, and the words were an echo of the ones Willow had heard over and over again when she was young.
That’s the way, son, as Willow’s father created another perfect bonbon, cut another gorgeous pan of fudge, rolled another delicate rose.
She blinked, surprised by the memory. A lot of things had been coming back to her since she’d returned. Some of them good. Some of them not.
She glanced at the hallway, the shivery fear of it still lodged in her stomach.
“You okay?” Jax asked, and Granddad glanced her way.
“Are you, doll?”
“I’m fine. Just trying to decide what to make next.” She’d been planning on mixing another batch of fudge. The three she’d made earlier had been . . . mediocre. She supposed, in another shop in another town, they would have been good enough to sell.
In this shop, in this town?
No way.
Not ever.
She’d tossed all three batches into the Dumpster. Thank God Granddad had been busy in the front of the house. He wasn’t any the wiser.
Sadly, she wasn’t either.
She had no idea what she was doing wrong. The smooth, creamy, decadent fudge she’d perfected when she was twelve was now lumpy, dull, lifeless crap.
“Make?” Granddad raised a thick gray brow. “You’re not making anything. You’re going to Spokane.”
Right.
Spokane.
To see the baby.
She couldn’t think of any other reason Jax would want to take her there. The only problem was that she didn’t plan to go. Not yet, and sure as hell not with him. The man made her insides melt and her thoughts fly away, but that wasn’t the reason she wouldn’t go with him.
She wouldn’t go because he’d seen too much.
He’d heard her scream.
He’d held her shoulders while she’d puked.
He’d looked into her face, and he’d known. She wasn’t sure how. She didn’t know how much, but she knew that he’d seen the truth. She was a victim. There was no doubt about that, but she didn’t want the world to know it.
She didn’t want Jax to know it.
Call her a coward, because she was one, but the last thing she was going to do was spend more time alone with a man who seemed to see her deepest, darkest secrets.
“We’ve been swamped all day, Granddad,” she began, knowing that Jax wasn’t going to believe a word of it. God willing, Granddad would, and he’d jump onboard her plan. “We’ve got a ton of product to make. That’s going to take hours.”
“You think the young man and I can’t handle it?” Byron jabbed his finger toward Randall, obviously not understanding his part in the conversation. All he’d had to do was agree. Would that have been so difficult?
“He has no experience.”
“He’s a natural.”
“I am?” Randall beamed, and Willow wondered if she was hallucinating, because Randall looked . . . happy.
“Damn straight you are,” Byron announced. “You go check on that baby, Willow.”
“I’m here to help you. Not leave halfway through the day to go on a jaunt to—”
“Visit a baby who’s going to have surgery tonight,” Jax interrupted.
“Tonight? When did they decide that?” She pulled out her cell phone, realized she had three calls from the hospital.
“I don’t know. They let Kane know. He told me. Someone else must have told the press. They’ve all cleared out.”
“I noticed how quiet it had gotten out there,” Willow said, pulling off her apron and tossing it into the laundry bag near the back door. This changed everything, of course. No way was she not going to the hospital.
“Hold on a second!” Randall nearly shouted. “I’m not staying here while I get scooped by out-of-towners!”
“Yeah. You go run to the hospital like all those other idiots,” Byron said. “Crowd around outside and wait to get whatever little tidbit of information the hospital decides to give. Or you could stay here and wait for Kane to give you a call with the real information.”
“You think he’d do that?” Randall asked, looking hopefully at Jax.
“You’re local. If there’s a scoop to be given, you’re the one he’ll want to give it to.”
It may or may not have been the truth, but Randall seemed satisfied with the answer. “Fine. I’ll stick around Chocolate Haven for a while. Maybe the mother will come in for a piece of fudge.”
“Anything is possible,” Jax agreed, his palm pressing against Willow’s lower spine as he urged her toward the back door. He wanted to go to the hospital with her.
She’d rather go alone. She wasn’t afraid to have the conversation, but Byron was watching her, a look of concern on his face. Randall was watching—vulture-like and looking for a story—and she found herself moving. Walking to the back door, grabbing her purse from a hook where she’d hung it, stepping outside, moving across the empty parking area.
“Relax,” Jax murmured. “I’m not taking you to jail.”
“I know,” she said.
“Then, why do you look like I am?”
“Just thinking I should drive myself to the hospital. I wouldn’t want to pull you away from work.”
“You’re not.” He opened the cruiser door, and she found herself sliding in. Just like that. Not even a word of protest.
She met his eyes, because . . .
He was there, and she was there, and that quick jump of her pulse? The unexpected catching of her breath? That feeling that she’d been here before—looking straight into his eyes—and that she could be here again a million times and it wouldn’t be enough? They were like everything she’d ever wanted with Ken.
She finally looked away, making a big deal out of finding her seat belt and snapping it into place.
He must have gotten the hint.
He closed the door and rounded the car, climbing in without another word.
So, of course, she felt the need to talk.
She stared at her cell phone instead. She’d been too busy to check it earlier in the day. Now she could see that she had four text messages from her family, the calls from the hospital, and a voice mail from a number she didn’t recognize.
A reporter, maybe?
She’d check later. When she wasn’t sitting in Jax’s patrol car.
“I have to drive back to the station and punch out. We can take my SUV from there,” Jax said as he pulled onto Main Street.
“It might be easier if we just go in separate cars.” She should have said that before she’d gotten in his car.
“Easier for who?” he asked.
“I just mean that if we go in separate vehicles, neither of us will have to worry about someone else’s timeline. We can arrive when we want and leave when we want.”
“I’m not worried. Are you?”
“Well, no, but I still think—”
“That we should do the practical thing and share the ride?”
“Practical is overrated.”
“So is fear, but you seem to have a lot of it.”
“Why do you say that?” she asked as he parked in a lot behind the sheriff’s department.
“Am I wrong?”
“Does it matter?”
He turned off the ignition and turned to face her. She wasn’t sure what he seeing, had no idea what he was thinking, but finally he shrugged.
“I guess that’s up to you, Willow.”
“Then, no. It doesn’t matter. Even if it did, it wouldn’t be up for discussion.”
“No problem. I can think of plenty of other things to talk about.” He got out of the cruiser.
“My SUV is there.” He pointed to a blue Ford Explorer and then handed her a set of keys. “Go ahead and start it. I’ll be out in a minute.”
This, of course, would have been the perfect opportunity to tell him to forget it. It would have been the perfect time to explain to him that she wasn’t afraid of him or of anything else.
Except the past. And dark hallways. Empty doorways.
It would have been the perfect opportunity, but he was already walking inside the building, and she was still sitting in his cruiser, the keys in her hand, the chilly March air seeping through her sweater dress.
A jacket would have been a good idea.
Staying in Seattle would have been a better one.
All this crap about facing her fears? She should have made damn sure she was ready to do it before she’d come.
“You are ready,” she muttered, climbing out of the cruiser and shutting the door. She thought about taking the keys into the station and handing them back to Jax, but that would have required a conversation she didn’t feel like having. One that involved listing all the reasons why spending time alone with him wasn’t a good idea.
She unlocked the SUV, pushing the remote start as she got into the passenger seat. The vehicle smelled like leather and sunshine and Jax. For some reason, she found that comforting and nice. Like sitting on a porch during a rain shower, listening to water dripping from the eaves and splashing onto grass and pavement. Like waking to the smell of coffee or doughnuts or both. Like all the small uncomplicated moments in life that seemed absolutely divine.
The door opened, and Jax got in, his hair ruffled, his chin scruffy from a days’ beard growth.
He met her eyes and smiled, and her heart skipped about a dozen beats.
“Ready?” he asked, and she nodded, because her throat felt tight with emotions she shouldn’t be feeling.
He pulled out onto Main Street, driving through town at a leisurely pace, merging onto the interstate and heading toward Spokane. Unlike the previous night, he wasn’t quiet. Neither was she. The conversation flowed the way conversations should. No awkward silences, no uncomfortable questions.
By the time they reached the city limits, Willow felt more relaxed than she had in days.
“You’re an easy conversationalist, Jax,” she said as he exited the interstate and headed into the city.
“Are you surprised?”
“You were quiet when we were kids.”
“So were you. I guess we’ve both grown up and come out of our shells.”
Jax pulled into the hospital parking lot, gestured to a news van that was parked near the front entrance. “Looks like the media is already here. How about we go around back and avoid the chaos? We can probably take the back stairs and avoid the press altogether.”
“Sounds like a plan,” she responded, and he smiled.
“That’s about as lackluster a response as I’ve ever gotten.”
“I could say it again with more enthusiasm, if you’d like.”
He laughed. A nice laugh. A big one. No quiet chuckle like Ken’s, half covered by a hand or interrupted by a cleared throat or a cough. Nope. Jax went all out, the sound warm and full.
So, of course, she smiled.
She was still smiling as she got out of the SUV and followed him into the hospital.
* * *
Making it to Miracle’s room without running into the press? Easy.
Watching the baby being wheeled away for surgery? Not easy.
The kid looked tiny lying in the Isolette, her downy curls matted down, her body shrouded by blankets. There were tubes and IVs and people everywhere.
Jax had no idea if the baby was old enough to be scared.
He sure as hell was.
“She’s going to be fine,” Willow said, and he wasn’t sure if she was trying to reassure him or herself.
“Of course, she is,” Alison said cheerfully.
She’d been in the room when they’d arrived, sitting in a rocking chair near the baby. Based on her wrinkled clothes, smudged eye makeup, and pale skin, he didn’t think she’d left the hospital since Miracle had been admitted.
Miracle Doe.
It was stenciled in black on a little card attached to the Isolette. He could see it as he followed the team of specialists to double doors that led into the surgical wing.
“This is as far as you can go,” one of the nurses said. “There’s a waiting area just around the corner. I’d be happy to show you where it is.”
“We’ll find it. Coffee first, though, I think,” Alison answered. “How about you two? Up for a cup? We can head down to the cafeteria.”
“I’d rather wait here,” Willow responded, her gaze tracking the team that was disappearing through the doorway.
“Honey,” the nurse said with a sigh. “The surgery is going to be a few hours, and standing outside these doors isn’t going to imbue the doctors with magical abilities that will get it done faster.”
Willow’s lips quirked in a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “In other words, you want me gone?”
“Not gone in the most permanent sense of the word.” The nurse grinned. “Just not standing right here for so long you fall over. It’s happened, and trust me, the end results weren’t pretty. Banged-up face, busted tooth.”
“Coffee sounds better,” Alison cut in. “You have my cell phone number, right?”
“Yes,” the nurse replied. “We’ll call when she’s out of surgery. If things take longer than expected, we’ll give you an update. Now, I’ve got to go.”
She hurried away, the doors swinging shut behind her.
For a moment, they were all standing silently, looking at that damn door as if it was going to open and a healthy newborn was going to suddenly appear.
Finally Jax got himself moving.
He stepped away from the door, his hand settling on Willow’s shoulder as he urged her to do the same. He meant for his palm to rest on the back of her jacket. But she hadn’t worn a jacket. There was nothing between his hand and her skin except a layer of soft knit fabric.
Very soft, and he imagined her skin would be even softer.
He imagined it would feel damn good to let his hand slide along that silky flesh.
He also imagined that he should walk away, put a few hundred steps between himself and Willow, because she was the kind of woman he’d spent a lifetime avoiding. The kind he’d want to build dreams with, the kind he’d want to give the world to, because he’d think she deserved it.
“What do you two think of my coffee idea?” Alison asked, bouncing along beside them, her words an anchor to the real world. The one where Jax avoided relationships that would drag him in deeper than he wanted to go.
He let his hand slip away, his gaze skimming Willow’s face as he pushed the elevator button.
Her cheeks were pink, her gaze fastened on Alison as if her life depended on maintaining eye contact with the woman.
“Coffee would be good,” she said, nearly running into the elevator as the doors opened.
“And maybe food?” he suggested, because he doubted she’d eaten anything at Chocolate Haven. Except maybe chocolate. He could smell that, the scent filling the elevator as they rode to the main floor. He thought it might be his imagination, but Alison inhaled, her eyes closing.
“Oh. My. Gosh. Someone has chocolate!” she cried.
“I think, maybe, I’m wearing it,” Willow replied, brushing her hand down the front of her dress as if she thought she might be covered with the stuff.
He didn’t see a speck of chocolate on her.
What he saw was the way her dress hugged her slim curves, the way her legs seemed to go on forever. The way her cheeks went pink again when she noticed he was watching her.
“Too bad. I love chocolate,” Alison said. “Maybe I’ll come visit that chocolate shop of yours.”
“It’s my grandfather’s shop,” Willow responded, her voice husky. She was staring straight into his eyes, and Jax couldn’t make himself look away.
He didn’t want to look away.
He wanted to keep staring into her face. He wanted to trace the angle of her jaw, count the freckles on her cheeks. He wanted to tuck that one loose strand of hair behind her ear and kiss the hollow at the base of her throat.
Her pulse jumped. He could see it thrumming wildly beneath her ivory skin, and if Alison hadn’t been standing a foot away, he’d have given in to temptation and pressed his lips to the spot, tasted the sweetness of her skin.
“Oh. I know it is. I’ve done my research,” Alison said as the elevator doors slid open. She bustled out, completely oblivious to the zing of electricity in the air.
“What research?” Jax asked, because Willow didn’t. She was too busy striding toward the cafeteria, her low-heeled boots tapping on the tile floor, her muscles taut with whatever she was feeling.
“On potential candidates.”
“Candidates?”
“Do you know how many applications for foster and adoption we’ve received since Miracle’s story broke?” she asked.
“A lot,” Willow offered, tossing the words over her shoulder.
“Hundreds. By the end of the week, we’ll probably have thousands. It’s a daunting job weeding through all the information. It’s always this way with newborns and babies. Even toddlers. It’s the older kids who get the short end of the stick. We’re lucky if we get a half dozen applicants for them. It’s a shame. There are so many great kids who just need a chance.” She shook her head. “But that’s neither here nor there. We’re dealing with a newborn. A very new newborn. Everyone and his brother wants to be her parent.”
“She has parents. Somewhere,” Jax said, not sure where they were headed with the conversation.
“Parents who may or may not be found. Parents who may or may not be fit to raise her. She needs a home now. Not tomorrow or the next day. The best thing my office can offer is someone who will love her as if she were her own, but who will be willing to give her up when the time comes. Someone who is trained, who has a good heart, who has a good support system. Someone like Willow.”
“What?!” Willow spun around. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I’m not kidding. You’re licensed and approved by the state. You live in the town where Miracle was found. If she’s got family around and they’re located, that will make visitation easier.”
“I don’t live in Benevolence,” Willow pointed out, and Alison shrugged.
“You’re there now, and we want to keep the baby in-county. Your apartment is large enough for you and a child.”
“It’s not my apartment.”
“But you’re living there. I could stop by in the next day or two and write up an addendum to your home study that reflects your change in address.”
“But it’s not a permanent change.” Willow sounded confused and, unless Jax missed his guess, intrigued.
“Willow—” He tried to butt in, but Alison was on a roll.
“This isn’t a permanent placement. It’s an emergency foster. A month or two tops. That is what you’re licensed to provide.”
“I’d only planned to be in Benevolence for a couple of weeks.”
“Would you be willing to change your plans for Miracle’s sake? Maybe take a little more vacation time? Live here on the weekend and take the commuter flight in and out of Seattle once you go back to work? We’re not talking permanently. This will be for a month or two tops.”
“All those things are possible, but for the next ten days, I’m working at the shop. I don’t have a daycare provider,” she said, the fact that she hadn’t answered the question giving Jax all the information he needed.
She was going to agree unless there was some compelling reason not to, and that might be a mistake. Or it might not. It wasn’t his decision to make, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to try to talk her out of it.
On the other hand, if she stuck around town for a month or two, there’d be a lot more opportunities for him to see her, a lot more opportunities for him to overstep boundaries that he’d set into place years ago. A lot more opportunity for heartbreak.
“You have a full-time job in Seattle”—Alison was on a roll and pushing her advantage—“and you still did foster parent training. Obviously, you’ve thought through your options.”
“Of course, I have. They include daycare providers that I trust and a flexible work schedule. I have plenty of personal leave saved. That’s when I’m in Seattle. Here, things are different. I can’t make chocolate in the apartment, and my daycare provider isn’t going to relocate to accommodate me.”
“When I spoke with your mother earlier, she said that she’d be happy to offer childcare. She’s already gone to have fingerprinting done. Once we get her background check complete, we may be able to get special approval for her to help out. For now, she said that one of your sisters could help at the shop when you can’t be there.”
“When did you speak to my mother?”
“This morning. Nine-ish maybe. She’d stopped by with some clothes for Miracle and asked if she could take a peek at the little baby that you’d saved.”
“I didn’t save her.”
“Her words. Not mine. Besides, if your mother wants to call you a hero, who am I to argue? Anyway, she caught me at a good time. I’d just had a nice big breakfast. Omelet. Toast.” Alison patted her stomach. “Otherwise, I might have told the nurse to turn her away. I get grumpy when I haven’t eaten.”
“Good to know,” Jax muttered.
“I like to warn people.” She barely spared him a look. Her gaze was on Willow. She had an agenda, and she didn’t seem like she was going to be swayed from it. “Long story short, Willow. Your mother saw Miracle, and we had a nice little chat about what a good foster mother you would be and about how your family would rally around you while Miracle waited for her new beginning.”
“New beginning?” Willow frowned.
“She needs a fresh start. You’re a good way for her to transition into it. What do you say? Will you consider it?”
“When would you need my decision?”
“Now would be great, but if you need more time, tomorrow will be okay.”
“You don’t seem to understand. I’m not ready to take in a baby. I’ve got no crib. No clothes. No diapers. No formula. I have no idea what kind of medical needs Miracle will have.”
“A nurse will come twice a day for the first couple of weeks to help out.”
“But that still leaves everything else,” Willow pointed out.
“And by the time she’s released from the hospital, I’m sure you’ll have all of it,” she said as if that was the last hurdle, as if the deal was done, an agreement reached.
Willow didn’t argue.
She didn’t throw up another roadblock, she didn’t point out flaws in the plan. No doubt about it. She was going to foster Miracle. She was going to mother her.
She was going to fall in love.
She was going to get her heart broken.
And Jax? He was going to be right there beside her, because what else could he do? Sure as hell not sit around twiddling his thumbs, pretending that he hadn’t been part of finding Miracle and that he wasn’t just as responsible for helping her get her new beginning.
He could feel the responsibility of it tightening like a noose around his neck, pulling him into a position he’d never wanted to be in.
One where he cared too much, loved too deeply.
“Willow,” he began, because he thought maybe he could explain things a little more clearly. Let her know in a little more detail just how tough it was going to be to say good-bye. Not talk her out of it, but sure as hell not help her talk herself into it.
“I know what you’re going to say, Jax. I shouldn’t do it.”
“I was going to say that you need to take your time thinking it through.”
“I agree, but we don’t have time, do we?”
We?
He doubted she’d realized the wording, and he didn’t point it out.
“I’m going to text my mother.” She pulled out her cell phone. “She’s great at organizing things. We can have the nursery painted and ready by Sunday.”
“Wonderful! I’ll stop by after church and get the amended home study started. That gives you a full forty-eight hours to prepare!” Alison beamed, grabbing Willow’s arm and dragging her toward the cafeteria door. “Now that that’s settled, let’s go get coffee and pie to celebrate.”
Neither woman seemed to realize Jax wasn’t following.
He wasn’t.
No. He was standing in the middle of the hospital corridor, wondering how in the hell his life had gone from quiet to chaos in just a few short hours.
He was also wondering how he was going to explain things to Kane. One day of overzealous news coverage was about all the town could take. Now it looked like that might stretch on for weeks or months.
They’d have to work extra shifts, assign someone the task of contacting the media and issuing statements. They’d have to protect Miracle’s privacy, protect Willow’s, and keep the town safe and comfortable for its citizens. They’d have to do it on a shoestring budget with a very small team, all while searching for the person who’d abandoned Miracle.
Not impossible, but it was going to take a lot of planning and coordinating. The way he saw it, there was no time like the present to begin.
He dragged out his phone, punched in Kane’s number, and waited impatiently while it rang.