Barefoot at Moonrise (Barefoot Bay Timeless Book 2) (26 page)

She lifted a questioning brow.

“Okay, Rebecca thought it would be good for us kids to spend more time with Mom and Ray.”

They really hadn’t been a ‘us kids’ kind of family, but she gave him a warm smile. “You’re right, Landon. This is a great idea, and I appreciate the invitation.”

At the front door, she stepped outside to inhale some fresh air after having been in the bathroom almost all day.

Landon took a few steps toward his Lexus sedan, then paused, turning around. “Is it serious with him?” he asked.

She had no idea how to answer that. “Too soon to tell.”

She could have sworn his gaze dropped to her belly, but he put on a pair of sunglasses so fast that she couldn’t be certain. “Then we’ll see you Saturday.”

“See you then.” She gave him a quick wave and walked back into the house, still wondering what Rebecca was actually up to with this dinner. When she got to the bathroom door, Ken was chopping away at tiles.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked.

“Yep.” He pounded a tile and popped it off without looking up at her.

“You’re absolutely one hundred percent positive you can handle dinner with my father?”

He banged the next tile, but it didn’t budge. “Yeah.”

“What changed your mind?”

“It’s time for your dad to know the truth.”

She inched back. “The truth? About what?”

One more stab with the scraper and the ceramic flipped off the wall, dropping into the tub. “That I’m not just a guy for you.” He turned and held her in place with a long, heated look. “I’m
the
guy and the father of his grandchild.”

“He doesn’t know about the baby yet, Ken.”

“He will after we tell him.” His eyes narrowed and she knew without a doubt that there would be no talking him out of this. “Together, on Saturday.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. I want to see him and, assuming you agree, I want him to know about our baby.”

“I do.” She pressed her hand to her heart, expecting resentment but only feeling a flutter of happiness. “Why now?”

His gaze dropped to her stomach. “You said
we
are having a baby.
We
. If you can use that word, I can see your father. Call it a compromise.”

Or a miracle.

* * *

On the way home late that afternoon, Ken swung by the station to see if there was any possibility of switching his Sunday shift. Sure, he could be there at seven a.m. Sunday, but he’d rather have the day off. He had big plans for Saturday night.

First, dinner with his arch nemesis…and the reward for surviving that? An overnight stay at Casa Blanca, but only if he could get Sunday off. He and Beth were going to celebrate getting over their greatest hurdle.

Assuming he survived that dinner.

Ken turned the corner from the bay into the main section of the station, meeting Pookie’s sharp gray gaze at her desk outside Chief Banfield’s office.

“Hey, Pooks. How’s it going, gorgeous?”

She put down the pen she was holding, crossed her arms, and lifted her brows in approval. “Hallelujah, the dry spell is officially over.”

He couldn’t help grinning. “You can say that again.”

She put her hand on the phone receiver. “Should I use the intercom?”

“Only if you want to die a slow death. What are the chances Captain Dobson would switch shifts with me so I can have Sunday off?”

“Dogface doesn’t switch shifts for love or money.”

“My boat for a day?”

“Oh yeah, that’d do it. Want me to call him and ask?”

He blew her a kiss on the way into his office. “I’m going to check my email and wait for the good news.”

“I was worried we’d never see you smile like that again.”

He gave her a wide, toothy smile. “No more worries. I’m happy.”

“Then so am I.”

“It’s kind of you to care about my well-being, Pooks,” he said, feeling magnanimous to the world.

“Oh, I don’t, really. But I put fifty on a baby Cavanaugh this calendar year.”

He stared at her for a second, his jaw loose. Then he relaxed into another smile. “Put another fifty in and get Dobson on the phone.”

She jumped up with a squeal. “Ken!”

“Shhh!” He pointed to the phone. “Dobson. Then in my office.”

He barely had time to scan his emails when his door closed and Pookie dropped into one of his guest chairs.

“How far along is she?”

He spun around so fast, it was a wonder he didn’t do a three-sixty. “What?”

“The calendar year ends in seven months.”

“Well, I didn’t mean a baby would be born…” His voice trailed off.

“She showed up here with news that changed your life, you folded in half over a callout that involved a pregnant woman, and your Internet history includes searches for pregnancy after tubes are tied.”

“You checked my search history?”

“You think it’s not public on a fire department computer?”

“I could have been looking for work-related reasons.”

“And I could have married Frank Sinatra if he’d have had me. When’s she due?”

“December twentieth.”

She fluttered her fingers in front of her mouth, stifling a squeal. “Imma be a grandma!”

“Would you stop?”

“No.” She leaned over the desk, her eyes sparking with joy. “I’m so happy for you, Ken.”

“Me, too.” He blew out a sigh. “Now all we have to do is get to know each other, survive the family dynamic, and decide we can actually make a go of this.”

“So I take it this wasn’t planned.”

He cocked his head with a smirk. “You saw the search. Tubes were tied.”

“Are you going to marry her?”

Was he? “I don’t know yet, Pooks, but if I bet like you do, I’d put my money on yes.”

“Wow.” She sighed and fell back on the chair. “Even after what happened to your dad?”

He jerked back. “How do you know about that?”

“You think you’re the only one who can work a search engine?” she asked. “You think I don’t Google any potential spouse for one of my guys or gals?” She swept her hand toward the station in general. “I need to know things.”

He turned to shut down his computer and push away from the desk. “Guess you do.”

“Captain,” she said. “You didn’t answer my question.”

He straightened some papers, stood up, and rolled his chair in. “We’re working on dealing with history, starting with dinner Saturday night. So give me a few days before you break my news to the free world, will ya?”

“I’m not telling anyone. How do you think I win all these bets?”

“I have no idea.”

He followed her to the door, turned off the light, and they walked out together. As soon as he closed the door behind them, Pookie stood close and put her hand on his arm.

“Just so you know, I’d bet everything on you,” she said. “You’re my favorite for a reason.”

Chapter Twenty

Sweat dribbled down Ken’s back and into his eyes as he braced his body for the next heave.

“On three,” he growled. “One…two…”

“It’s going to catch on the plumbing.” Beth leaned over the side of the tub by the drain and pointed.

Ken and Billy Hanrahan exchanged a look. “We’ve got this, babe,” Ken said.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’ve removed bathtubs before.
Babe
.”

Not pregnant, she hadn’t. “We disconnected the plumbing, Beth. It won’t catch.”

“But please watch that pipe, because the water heater is right behind that wall and it backs into my closet, so a leak would be costly.”

He nodded at the other man, who looked impressed with her knowledge of house building but also ready to have fewer orders and more brute strength to finish the job. “Cheat to your side, Irish.”

“Will do, Captain.”

Finally, Beth stepped back and let them hoist the ancient tub out of its sliver of space without a single pipe damaged. Gritting his teeth, he and Irish angled it so they could fit it through the bathroom door and carry it down the hall and out to the truck Irish brought to take it to the scrap metal dealer that Beth had arranged to have it.

They had to do a bit of a dance to get down the hall, but eventually they had it out to the driveway and into the truck. Beth followed them to supervise, of course, then went into the garage while he and Irish headed back to start on the cabinet and sink.

“She sure knows what she wants,” Irish said under his breath when they were alone.

Ken laughed. “One of my friends refers to her as the poster child for independent women.”

“Maybe I should change my bet.”

“What’d you put your money on?” Ken got on his knees in front of the pipe they’d left exposed, peering into the plumbing works, digging his finger around the rusty rim.

“The whole enchilada, of course. I mean, with the baby and all.”

Ken froze and drew back from the wall. “Damn it, Pookie. Who all knows?”

“I think the better question is who doesn’t know.”

Shit. He better tell Beth before word got back to her that he spilled the beans.

Ken put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Keep your money where it is, Irish.”

“Yeah, I am. Anybody with a brain is. Pooks is already shopping for a dress for your wedding.”

“Of course she is.” He flicked at some more rust, more concerned about it than amused by Pookie. “Look at how rusty this is. Wonder what kind of shape that water heater’s in.”

“The water heater is fine,” Beth called from the hall. “I can’t afford a new one.”

The men shared another look, and Irish grinned. “I’m going to look at it,” Ken called back, stepping into her bedroom.

“It’s fine,” she called. “I’ll deal with it.”

In the hall, he found her in front of the closet that housed the water heater. Hands on her shoulders, he nudged her to the side. “Let me look at it.”

“Okay, but don’t start with the fact that I need a new one. I want to clean this one up and make it work. Installing a new water heater adds another inspection and a delay.” She opened the closet door and gave him access. “Here, look.”

He wouldn’t disagree with the fact that it was an older unit, but maybe not on its last legs.

“The rust isn’t much of a problem,” he said, checking the seams of the unit.

“Look under it,” Irish called from the bathroom. “Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, that’s where a fire starts.”

“A fire?” Beth’s voice rose. “You guys are just looking for trouble.”

“That’s what we do.” Ken was already on his belly, peering under the unit. “Water heaters breathe, did you know that, Miss Fix-It? They suck in air, combust with it, and exhale it. If there’s anything under the tank, like rust or dust, they breathe that in, too.”

She didn’t answer, tapping her foot next to his face. “I didn’t know that,” she admitted. “I’m not a water heater expert.”

“Well, I’m a safety expert, and this thing here…” He banged a hand on the metal side.

“One of the most dangerous devices in your whole house,” Irish finished, coming into the hall to join them.

“But you’re good, Beth,” Ken said, pushing away and up. “It looks clean. Old but clean.” He grinned. “Kind of like me.”

She reached up and swiped her hand over his face. “You’re anything but clean right now. So you better hurry up if you’re going to have enough time to get that tub to the scrap dealer, get home, clean up, and get back here to pick me up for my family dinner.”

“Why don’t you grab some clothes, come with me, change at my house…” He leaned closer. “And we get to dinner late?” he added in a sexy whisper.

Irish cleared his throat, looking up like he couldn’t handle the romantic exchange. “Excuse me.”

Beth stepped back. “Oh. Sorry you had to witness that, Billy,” she said.

“No, ma’am. I love the inside information when I’m betting on something. And I’m betting on the captain.”

“Wise man,” Ken said.

“But you do have a problem,” Irish continued, still squinting toward the ceiling above the water heater. “Look, Captain.” He pointed to the round duct that ran from the unit into the vent directly above the water heater.

Ken peered at it. “Single-walled,” he said. “And cheap. Do you have a step stool?”

“In my garage. No, wait. I moved it. It’s in my…I’ll get it.” She started to leave, but he snagged her.

“Let Irish get it.”

“I can carry a step stool, Kenny.”

“Kenny?” Irish snorted. “’Scuze me while I text that one in.”

Ken shot both of them a look.

“It’s in the closet in my bedroom, Billy,” Beth said.

“It’s Ken in front of my men,” he whispered to Beth when Irish headed back to her room.

“This from the man who called me ‘babe’.”