His Baby Dilemma. Catherine Lanigan

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СКАЧАТЬ Mica had kissed her. She remembered the chlorine smell mixed with suntan lotion, the warmth of his lips on hers. It was a quick kiss. One without passion or longing, and yet, to this day, she’d never forgotten it.

      Nor had she forgotten his disdain of her pageant life and his dismissal of her interest in fashion. He hadn’t been cruel, but he’d made it clear he thought her pursuits were worthless.

      She hadn’t known how to stand up to him back then. He was three years older and as much as she had wanted to rebuke him, she’d felt there was truth to his arguments. He and his brothers worked from dawn to dusk on the farm. There was always back-breaking work to do and they did it gladly. Mica considered it a privilege to be a part of his father’s legacy.

      At Parsons and later in Paris, Grace had learned that Mica was right about one thing: determination and perseverance were everything.

      Mica Barzonni had changed her life back then, though he didn’t know that. Several times over the years, she’d thought about writing to thank him. But now she saw how truly inconsequential she’d been in his life. Obviously, he didn’t remember her in the least. He was a Barzonni, after all. He already had everything.

      Even now, her heart hammered in her chest. Suddenly she was that teenage girl again, crushing on the boy in the pool. She hadn’t been in love; she’d been too young for love, hadn’t she? Mica had given her no indication that she was anything to him other than a pest. Except for that one kiss. She was only a girl he’d met one summer...a long time ago.

      She stared back at him. He wore dusty jeans, a faded plaid shirt, an old wool vest that she would have trashed and scuffed boots with dirt clods clinging to the heels. There was an oil smudge on his forehead. He looked like he’d walked right out of the fields. His hand rested on the counter, where he’d dumped a big canvas sack.

      “What’s that?” she asked.

      “Pie pumpkins for Louise. My mother said she called and needed them ASAP.”

      “She didn’t tell me.” Grace added a final scoop to the sundae she’d been working on, but the dish was overloaded and another scoop fell out. She shoveled it back in and patted it down.

      “You need some help there?” He smirked.

      Grace stared at him. “I’m fine.” She plunged the dipper into the hot fudge and drizzled it over the ice cream. Glancing at the photo of the Monster Mash, she took a can of whipped cream from the under-the-counter refrigerator and pulled off the cap.

      “You’re supposed to shake it up first,” Mica said.

      “I know what I’m doing,” she snapped. Grace pressed the top and sprayed whipped cream all over the ice cream, the counter and onto Mica’s plaid shirt.

      He groaned. “Yeah, right.”

      “Sorry,” Grace said sheepishly, handing him a dish towel.

      “You should’ve shaken the can,” he growled. “I would have thought Louise would hire someone with skills.”

      Under Mica’s judgmental gaze, Grace felt as if she was fifteen again. Back when she’d just lost the crown and had felt terribly insecure. She’d given her heart away to Mica and he hadn’t known the first thing about her feelings. She’d kept silent. Well, not this time.

      “If I want your advice, I’ll ask for it. Now, excuse me, please. I have to deliver this.” Grace carried her vastly imperfect Monster Mash to a table of four boys, who looked askance at the sundae. “I did my best,” she whispered to the kids. She handed them four spoons. “It’ll taste better than it looks.”

      “Yeah,” Timmy said and gave her a thumbs-up. The kids dug in with audible glee.

      When Grace turned around she noticed that Mica was now leaning against the counter, his hand on his hip as he watched every move she made. No beauty contest judge had ever scrutinized her so intently. She felt as if she still had whipped cream on her face or mascara smudges under her eyes. She should have checked her makeup before the kids arrived, but there hadn’t been time. Self-consciously, she touched her earrings. No. They were still in place.

      All she could do was retaliate in kind. She let her gaze fall to his boots. She lifted the edge of her lips in a lopsided effort at a sneer. “You make deliveries here often?”

      “I do now.”

      “Then the next time you come, wipe your boots before you enter the shop. Saves me from scrubbing the floor.”

      He straightened. “I remember you.”

      “Oh, really?” Grace went behind the counter and took out another dish.

      “You’re Louise’s niece. I didn’t recognize you without the rhinestone crown.”

      Grace gripped the sundae dish to prevent herself from bouncing it off his thick skull. “And you’re Mica Barzonni.”

      “Yeah. Well, tell Louise she can mail the check...for the pumpkins.”

      “I will.”

      He started to head for the door.

      “Oh, Mica. Why don’t you stop off at the grocery store. Pick up some soap on your way out of town. Looks like you’ve run out.” She tapped her forehead.

      He reached up to his forehead, rubbed it, then studied his greasy fingertips. He glared back at her.

      Grace ground her jaw, picked up the ice-cream scoop and pitched it from hand to hand defiantly. One word. Try me, and I’ll really let you have it.

      He spun on his heel and stomped out of the shop, leaving a clod of mud and grass on the floor.

      “Ooooh!” Grace fumed, wishing she felt some relief from having had the last word.

      Sarah rushed to her side. “Was that Mica? I wanted to say hi.”

      “It was.” Every smug, judgmental inch of him.

      “You’re sure?”

      “Yeah.” Grace frowned. “You look surprised. Why?”

      “Mica doesn’t come to town much. Especially since the accident.”

      “What accident?”

      Sarah paused. “You didn’t know?”

      “Know what?”

      “He was in an accident a few months ago that nearly killed him. He was working on his mother’s car and it dropped on him. He’s lost the use of his left arm. He keeps his hand in his jeans pocket so people don’t notice. If he seemed—”

      “Arrogant as all get out?” Grace interrupted.

      Sarah smiled. “Well, yeah. He’s always had that about him.”

      “I would have thought he’d have grown up by now. Learned some manners. Do you remember when he used to call me silly because I was upset about losing Miss Teen Illinois? He didn’t get it. Those pageants were important to me and a huge part of my life back then. I thought СКАЧАТЬ