ACCORDING TO PLAN (15 page)

My heart swelled with love at the memory of that disastrous game of
pool.

“I love you, Tank”

He deepened the kiss and when he pulled away to explore other areas
in need of his attention, I heard him whisper, “Love you too. Always have.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

I stared at the slim white wand in my hand.

Blue. All of them were blue. I looked around at the carnage of open
boxes on the floor of my bathroom. Every little stick had shown the tiny blue
stripe. It was supposed to be pink or red—any color but blue!

Maybe they were defective and I should go across town, go out of state
and buy another one to make sure. Tears welled in my eyes. Who was I kidding?
They’d all be blue.

I was pregnant.

This was not supposed to happen. At least not right now. We were
supposed to enjoy wedded bliss for at least two point five years before having
a baby. This had been meticulously planned by me since I was eight years old.

I kept my scheduled appointment with Doctor Kaufmann and he
confirmed my suspicions. I was about four months along. Here I thought it was
Mrs. Cribbs cooking that had me gaining weight. All that time I was pregnant
and hadn’t known it.

I heard keys hitting the hall table and flew down the hallway,
launched myself into Tank’s arms and rained kisses all over his gorgeous face.

“I’m so glad you’re home.” I grabbed his hand and tugged him down
to the kitchen. “Are you hungry? Dinner’s almost ready.” I babbled because I
was nervous and didn’t know how to tell him about the baby. Tank allowed
himself to be dragged along, stopping just inside the kitchen door.

“I think I’d like some dessert now.” He tugged me back into his
arms and slanting his lips over mine, kissed me hungrily.

He walked us up against the wall and palm to palm our hands mated.
With a sweet slowness he stretched our hands above my head. His whole body
pressed against mine and I rubbed along the length of him, like a cat.
Unhurried, he blazed a trail down the outside of my arm with his hand, then
snaked his arm around my waist. His other hand brushed the top of my shirt. 
With deceptive languor, he popped open the first button to my blouse. He’d
deepened the kiss and had moved on to the second button when the doorbell
chimed.

“I’ll tell ‘em to get lost.” Tank lowered his forehead onto mine
and with a hard kiss, released me. He raked a hand through his hair and
adjusted his jeans before stalking down the hall to the front door. I pressed
my hands against my flushed cheeks and took the opportunity to straighten my
clothes.

Poor Tank, it was little girls, selling cookies. Girlish giggles followed
by his deep voice echoed down the hall. He was toast. He couldn’t say no to
sweet smiles and childish enthusiasm. And I’m sure the mother’s escorting them
enjoyed the eye candy at the door. I knew I would.

When he came returned to the kitchen with four boxes, I arched an
eyebrow. “Four?”

He shrugged and stuffed them into the pantry, then turned and
prowled toward me. I recognized the glint in his eye and felt a delicious
shudder go through me. Tank scooped me into his arms and holding me close to
his chest, bounded up the stairs two at a time.

“Dinner can wait.” He growled as he shouldered open the door to our
bedroom and practically threw me onto the bed. He kept his eyes trained on me
while he tore his shirt over his head, kicked off his boots and shrugged out of
his jeans.

My mouth went dry and I couldn’t have said word, even if I wanted. Baby
news would have to wait.

****

The next morning I watched Tank eating his breakfast. It was now or
never. I had to tell him before my ever expanding belly gave it away.

“Tank, would you come with me to get some things for the house?” I
bit into dry toast.

“Sure, what kind of things?’ He poured ketchup on his semi-hard
eggs. My stomach rolled. At this rate even the toast wouldn’t stay down. I
sipped my tepid tea.

“Just a few things for the spare room, nothing much.” Maybe if I
didn’t watch him dip his toast into the slimy yolk which had mixed with the
thick ketchup... Excusing myself I ran for the bathroom upstairs. A few minutes
later I brushed my teeth and went back down to resume eating the dry, cold
toast.

After breakfast we went to a large furniture store, although I
thought we’d never leave the house. Tank disappeared into our bedroom, only
re-appearing when I threatened to come upstairs and drag him down.

He held my hand and snatched kisses whenever he thought no one in
the store was looking, not paying too much attention to where we were. His
steps faltered when I paused in the little area with children’s furniture. He
further slowed down when I stopped at a beautiful hand carved rocker, sat in it
and began rocking gently.

“Shelby, why are we here?”

I rocked a little harder and couldn’t look at him. All I saw were
two big feet, planted directly in front of me.

“Shelby.” His tone had an edge to it.

I stopped rocking. Running my fingers on the arm of the rocker I
asked. “What color would you like to paint the room if it’s a boy?” I dared to
peep up.

I had never seen Tank at a loss for words. I probably never would
again. He was so still I wasn’t sure he heard me. His face was devoid of
emotion, so I repeated, “Tank, what color...?”

“I heard you.” He pulled me out of the rocker and lifted me into
his arms. His heart thundered in his chest. I didn’t know if he was happy, mad,
or indifferent and I stumbled back when he released me and let out an
ear-splitting whoop before pulling me back in his arms.

Patrons jumped and store clerks came to see what all the fuss was.
They arrived in time to see me crushed in a tight bear hug again, while Tank twirled
around, kissing me over and over.

Laughing, I pushed on his shoulders. “Tank, the child will come out
dizzy if you don’t put me down.”

“Are you all right?” He almost dropped me in his haste to set me on
terra firma, placing the palm of his hand on my little rounded belly. The tiny
bulge alone should have told me I was pregnant.

“I’m going to have a baby. Women have been doing this for
millennia.” I loved the feel of his big hand resting on my belly, on our child.

“I know, but this is my first time, so cut me some slack.” He hugged
me again.

“Uh, Tank. We’re in public.” My voice was muffled as I spoke into
his chest.

“I don’t care.” But he did loosen his arms and allow me to breath.
Snagging my hand in his large one, he dragged me through the store, not
stopping until we were in our new jeep. He half turned in his seat.

“When?” There was no beating around the bush with Tank.

“About four months.” I could see the wheels turning in Tank’s mind,
calculating.

Maybe sooner.

“You were pregnant before the explosion.” He shook his head in
disbelief. “We only made love once.”

“That’s all it takes.”

Tank reached across the gearshift, pulled me close and kissed me
again. The kiss was sweet, yet demanding at the same time. He caressed my cheek
and whispered, “You can’t know how excited I am.”

Now that was a first. I
always
knew when he was excited, but
I knew he spoke from his heart. Then he decided we needed things for the baby
and me. We bought vitamins, every book he could find on pregnancy and childcare,
stopping only when I refused to buy a jogging stroller. Totally exhausted when
we arrived home I wanted to lie down. I also needed to pee, again, and made my
way to our bedroom upstairs. Although the room lay in darkness, I didn’t need a
light to find the bathroom.

When I came out of the ensuite, I stopped at the sight of what lay
before me. The room was filled with votive candles and crimson rose petals were
sprinkled over the duvet. A glass of milk sat in a bucket full of ice, the
previously chilled champagne placed on the floor beside the bed and Tank waited—a
small black box in his hand.

So this was why he took so long to get ready this morning. I
approached and took the box he held out. After a quick, questioning glance, I raised
the lid.

Nestled in the velvet was a square cut diamond set in platinum
gold, with two gleaming emeralds on either side. My heart hammered and I could
barely choke out words.

“You found them?”

“Had to crawl through the shrubbery by the front porch, but yeah, I
found them.”

“I always regretted throwing my rings at you.” With wondering eyes,
I looked about the room. Never in my wildest dreams, and I’d had a few, would I
have expected this. “Why all the romance? We’re already married.”

“I planned on taking you out for a romantic dinner and when we came
home, I’d carry you here, have a champagne toast and do this proper. Our whole
married life was built on a foundation of lies. But now we’ve got a clean
slate.”

He took the box out of my shaking hand and bent down on one knee.
My breath stuttered as he slid the familiar ring on my fourth finger.

Holding my hand, he looked up at me. “I think I loved you before I
met you. You make me weak in the knees, every day. These past few months have
been hell and I don’t want to waste another moment. I want to fight with you. Laugh
and love with you...” He placed a big hand on my belly, “...have children with
you. Shelby Marie Stewart-Steele, will you marry me, again?”

Tears slipped down my cheeks and I dropped to my knees. I held his
face in my hands, and looked first into his green and then blue eye. “Yes. I’ll
marry you, Jackson Montgomery Steele.”

Hours later, snuggled close against his chest, I grinned into the
dark and thought about the only other thing which could render him speechless.
I almost shook him awake, but decided I’d tell him in the morning, just as he
was about to take a big gulp of coffee.

I slid into sleep…
Hope he’s ready for twins
.

THE END

Thanks for reading According to Plan. I hope you enjoyed Shelby
and Tank’s story. Make sure you’re on my mailing list at
www.suebarrauthor.com
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new books are released. If you enjoyed this book, please help other readers
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Goodreads.

Turn the page for a sneak peek at my next book,
Man of Her Dreams.

Man Of Her Dreams

Lindsay Swanson turned her beat-up truck into the parking lot and
pulled to a stop near the front entrance of the Food Mart. Waves of heat
shimmered from the hood of the truck, making the open space look like a Saharan
mirage. Sweat trickled down the side of her temple and she swiped it away
before twisting her hair into a Ravenwood Hooligan’s ball cap.

A fluttering movement caught her eye. With a sigh she peeled a
rogue piece of drywall tape off her T-shirt. When you owned your own renovation
business, things got messy. Thankfully, most of the town would be at Nesland
Lake, enjoying the warm weather, so chances of someone seeing her caked in
drywall dust and sweat were slim.

Through the front window she spotted one of the
cashiers working a check-out line, and groaned. Just her luck, Carla would be
working today. Now everyone in town would know how pathetic her life was. She
could hear Carla now.

“Poor Lindsay, she only bought a loaf of bread.  No one to cook
for....”

For a brief moment, she considered hopping back into her truck and
driving to her parent’s farm for a home cooked meal. Mom wouldn’t mind another
body at the table, but Lindsay wasn’t up for the subtle guilt that would be sprinkled
throughout the meal.

Mom would say, over a savory pot roast, ‘
A few grandchildren
would be nice while we can enjoy them – without assistance from a walker
.’
Or, ‘
When are you going to find a nice young man?’

The automatic door slid open and Lindsay entered the blissfully
cool interior, and made a bee-line for the deli counter. As expected, the store
was quiet, the silence broken by piped music from the fifties and sixties. She
ordered sandwich meat, pausing when her cell phone played ‘
Red Neck Woman’
.

“Hey, Tina. What’s up?”

“Are you coming to practice tonight?”

A pang of guilt sliced through her. The good folk of Ravenwood were
fanatical about their slow-pitch team, planning town fairs and community events
around the tournaments. Although she loved playing ball, she had no desire to
run around an outfield. Not after taping and mudding Mrs. Henderson’s entire
kitchen.

“No can do. I’m too tired.” She waved a thank-you to the deli clerk
and grabbed the package of meat.

“Not again. You only have to come out for a few hours.”

 “You know I’m busy, and before you ask, I can’t make the game
tomorrow night either.”

She heard muffled whispering. The Hooligan’s next game was against
the Silver Creek Bullets, their biggest competitor and a minimum of two women
was required to play.

“Tell Nick I hear him breathing.” Lindsay guessed her brother was
eavesdropping.

“How did you—?” Tina sighed. “At least come for drinks after the
game.”

“I’ll be there. See you tomorrow.” Lindsay ended the call. Tina was
not only her sister-in-law, but also her best friend, and because they’d known
each other since they were both in diapers, Tina felt it was her duty to make
sure Lindsay had a plus-one for parties. Unfortunately, for both of them, her
batting average was a big, fat zero.

However, a boyfriend would be nice. Especially on beautiful days
like today where she and her fabulous, make-believe boy toy could water-ski,
then invite everybody over for a barbeque and Carla wouldn’t think she was so
pathetic.

Lindsay continued to the bakery department. She was dangerously low
on provisions and swore she’d do a full grocery shop on the weekend. That was,
if she had time. If she didn’t have another renovation booked. If, if, if...
The multitude of ifs piled up, threatening to topple over and crush her.

Long time Ravenwood resident, Lindsay Swanson was crushed to death
last night. Investigators claim the reason was iffy.

She skirted the candy bars and closed her eyes as she moved down
the cookie aisle, opening them when she felt was safely beyond their tempting
chocolate chips and caramel swirls.

Maybe because her eyes had been closed or maybe because he’d come
around from the other side of the bread rack, but Lindsay didn’t see the man until
they both reached for the last loaf of fresh bread.

Their fingers touched and a jolt ran from her finger tips straight
to her midsection. She followed the length of a muscled forearm up to his body.
Her eyes did a slow blink and she lost all coherent thought.

Before her stood six feet plus of muscle and pure testosterone.
Broad shoulders filled out a grey T-shirt, the soft cotton material snug across
his chest and loose around his abs. Abs that most likely had the perfect ridges
women went crazy over and posted pictures of on every social media page. She
dragged her gaze up to a stubble dusted chin. Her knees weakened. There was
something incredibly sexy about a man with a scruffy face. She moved past a
firm, sexy mouth and stopped when she reached a pair of steel grey eyes.

Holy Mackerel.

For a moment she thought interest flared in those unusual eyes, but
he gave her a lopsided grin, released the loaf of bread and turned away. Thank goodness.
A millisecond more and she’d have melted into a gooey puddle. Right in the
middle of baked goods. She could imagine the loudspeaker announcement.

Clean up in Bakery. Bring the wet vac.

As he continued down the aisle, pushing a grocery cart piled high
with Hungry Guy Meals, she stared. Dark jeans, soft and worn, rode low on his
hips, looking like old friends the way they moulded to his backside. At that
exact moment, he glanced over his shoulder and she froze.

Oh No!

This unbelievably hot guy caught her checking out his backside. She
knew she’d turned bright red when warmth slid up her neck faster than mercury
in a thermometer. He grinned and turned back to study the cereal box in his
hand. Why couldn’t she have met him when she looked like a member of the human
race and not a walking sweat stain?

Mortified at being caught ogling, she hugged the loaf of bread to
her chest and hurried to the check-out. As she rounded the corner, she came to
a full stop. Although the store had been quiet when she first came in, now
every cashier was busy. Except…Carla.
Would it be too much to ask for one
small break today?

“I can help you over here.” Carla gave her a curt little nod.

Lindsay placed the meat and bread on the conveyor belt.

“Is that everything?” Carla slid the items over the scanner.

“Yes.”

“That’ll be four dollars and fifty-six cents.”

Lindsay reached into her back pocket and pulled out a twenty dollar
bill.

Carla took the money and held it up to the light, squinting. She
then passed it under a counterfeit detector. She knew the bad bill Lindsay used
for groceries over a year ago had come direct from the bank, but she still
scanned her money.

Every. Single. Time.

Come on, Carla. Get the lead out.

“Are you going to the lake?” Carla finally opened the register.

“No.” Lindsay shook her head and glanced around. The way her luck
was going, he’d come around the corner, see her bills being triple checked and
think she was a con artist as well as a mute fool.

“Must be nice, owning your own company, not having to worry how you
look.”

For the second time that day Lindsay stared, not sure of what to
say. Carla had made her life miserable in high school, but they were grown
women, too old for this kind of cattiness. She caught Carla’s gaze sliding up
and down her body, with a smirk she didn’t bother to hide.

Right then, Lindsay decided she wasn’t too old.

“Bless your heart, worrying about me when you’re stuck inside. And
on such a beautiful day, too.” Lindsay smiled with cherub-like innocence.

Carla’s eyes narrowed to tiny slits while she made change and
handed it to Lindsay, along with her groceries. “Thanks for shopping at Food
Mart,” was ground out between clenched teeth.

Aware of the woman’s angry look following her, Lindsay strolled through
the sliding doors toward her truck. With one last glance through the window she
was surprised to see Carla surreptitiously wipe a tear from her cheek.

Because of her comment? Lindsay couldn’t be sure, but vowed the
next time she ran into Carla she’d apologize. Just because she was having a bad
day didn’t mean she had to drag someone else down with her.

****

Jared Kane held the cereal box and mentally kicked himself. The
first time in ages a woman showed attention and he turned away. At this rate they’d
make him hand back his man card. Any other place, any other time, he’d at least
nod a hello, but he hadn’t been prepared for a little bit of heaven at the Food
Mart. Granted she was on the wrong side of clean, with drywall mud spattered on
her clothing, and he had no idea what color her hair was, stuffed into a dusty
Ravenwood Hooligans ball cap, but clear hazel eyes had stared up at him, her
full lips slightly parted.

He’d noticed those too. Lips that looked like they could use a good
long kiss.

He glanced back over his shoulder. She stood by the bread rack, her
gaze riveted on his butt. When she realized he’d semi-turned, her eyes widened.
He grinned and turned back to his shopping cart. Oh yeah. She’d totally checked
him out. He tapped the cereal box and tried to think of something nonchalant
and witty to say.

Don’t be a moron. How hard is it to say hello?

He turned around and the ‘
Hi’
died on his lips. Like a
silent shadow she’d disappeared. “Smooth move, Kane,” he muttered and turned
toward the checkout. He might never find out who she was. There was still no
sign of her while he unloaded his groceries on the conveyor belt.

 “Are you the guy who bought old man Wilkinson’s house on
Fourth Street?”

He paused with a jar of peanut butter in his hand. Why did he
always get chatty Cathy for a cashier? He placed the jar on the belt and gave
the clerk a polite smile. Grandma Kane said most people would be curious about
him and to always treat others as you would like to be treated.

“I am. It’s a great old house, but needs a lot work.” That was an
understatement. He’d spent the better part of last week cutting back overgrown
rose bushes and had gashes from the thorns to prove it.

The checkout clerk, whose name tag read Carla, slid his frozen
chicken over the scanner. “Not surprised. Old Man Wilkinson didn’t do a whole
lot to that piece of… uhh, his house.”

Jared studied the clerk. Odds were high she’d know the mystery
woman. Ravenwood wasn’t that big of a town. He watched her scan a few more
items before saying, “There was a girl here earlier. Looked like she worked in construction.”

“You must mean Lindsay Swanson.” Carla grabbed his box of instant
potatoes. “Don’cha know she’s your neighbor?”

Neighbor? He’d have come home early from his book tour if he’d
known his neighbor was drop dead sexy. “The red and brown bungalow?”

“No. Her house is yellow. Will that be cash or charge?” Carla’s slightly
red-rimmed eyes never left his face. Jared knew she’d catalogued everything he
bought and also knew, without a shred of doubt half the town would have full
knowledge of his buying preference by tomorrow.

“Cash.” He pulled out four twenties and handed them over. “Do you
think her husband would mind if I asked where she got some of her plants?”

Carla entered the amount of cash received and waited for the
register to open. “Who?”

“Lindsay.”

“Husband,” Carla snorted and began to paw through the money.
“Lindsay’s not married. She’s too busy with Best Laid Plans.”

“Best Laid Plans?”

“Her renovation business. She wants to rebuild Ravenwood one
recycled plank board at a time.”

“Renovations. Good to know.”

Carla shut the till with a loud bang and held out his change.
“Thank you for shopping at Food Mart.”

Jared took his money and pushed the cart out to his truck. On the
drive home he tried to figure out a way to meet the sexy neighbor. He could
always borrow a cup of sugar.

“Hi. I’m your neighbor, Jared Kane. Can I borrow some sugar,
Sugar?”

Nope. That was just plain creepy. She’d slam the door in his face
faster than he could spit.

“Hi. I’m Jared. Do you know any good places to eat?”

Lame. Lame. Lame.

What was wrong with him? He created scenes and wrote dialogue for a
living. Surely he could think of some witticism to break the ice and not come
across as a sleazy lounge lizard.

He pulled into his drive and studied the front of her house. If
this was a scene from one of his books, she’d come out onto the front porch,
looking exceptionally hot and he’d introduce himself. But everything remained
silent, so he entered his house and dropped the pizza box on the old Formica
countertop in the kitchen. His cell phone vibrated and he glanced at the call
display.

 “Hey, Daran.”

“My favorite author.” Daran’s crisp British accent whipped through
the phone’s speaker.

Jared waited for Daran to cut to the chase. Never one to mince
words, it didn’t take long.

“How far are you in the manuscript?”

The manuscript in question,
Double Crossed
, sat neglected in
the laptop upstairs. He took the stairs two at a time and entered a small
bedroom he’d converted into an office. While speaking with Daran he glanced out
the window into the backyard. “Daran, I moved to Ravenwood to escape all the
pressure and find peace and quiet. I don’t—”

A flash of color in his neighbor’s yard caught his interest.
Lindsay, in a bright pink tank top and denim shorts, set up a lounge chair,
sauntered back inside and returned with a book and a sandwich.

Most likely made with my loaf of bread.

Golden curls, slightly damp, skimmed her shoulders until she
secured them into a loose ponytail. When she reached for her sandwich, Jared
leaned into the window and—