Born to Be Wild (13 page)

“Thank goodness she’s awake,” Lauren interrupted. Knowing her brother, he could go on for hours saying “except for” and she didn’t want to listen to him right now. It was Sam’s voice she longed to hear. “Could I speak with her?”

“Hang on a second.”

In the background she heard the squeak of the bed, heard Jack’s complaining and Sam’s delightful laughter as she breathlessly admonished her husband for being such a grouch, all of which brought a smile to Lauren’s face. If her brother and sister-in-law didn’t choose to live in the godforsaken outback of Wyoming, she’d build a
house right next door so she could spend every day in Sam’s company.

The same breathless voice that had chewed out Jack said, “Hi, Lauren.”

“I am
so
sorry I woke you,” Lauren began. “I know it’s late, I know you’re pregnant, and I’ve been so wrapped up in what’s going on in my life that I didn’t give a moment’s thought to the fact that you’re carrying around twins, that you must be feeling awful, and—”

“I’m fine,” Sam told her, “although your niece and nephew have already begun to fight. Not only that, but one of them continually pushes on my bladder, one has a constant case of the hiccups, and neither one likes to sleep. I can just imagine what life will be like once they enter the world.”

Lauren unconsciously put a hand to her belly, wondering if she’d ever know the joy of bringing a new life into the world. It seemed highly doubtful, considering her past and her propensity for making a mess of all her relationships, but she still held out hope that someday she’d have the family she’d always craved.

She tried not to think about her own desires and focused on Sam again, thinking of all the wonderful days she had ahead of her. Of course, there were probably going to be some not so wonderful days, too.

“Mother told me she’d recommended a nanny and that you’d flatly refused to have one.”

“Your mother means well, but what do I need
with a nanny? I’m perfectly capable of raising my own children. Jack swears he won’t leave my side. Beau’s anxious to have a brother and sister. Pastor Mike’s already planning a christening, and Crosby’s grumbling about having two more mouths to feed. I haven’t got the heart to tell Cros that I’ll be breast-feeding the babies for at least the first year. As much as he fusses, I think he’s secretly looking forward to having children in the house. But enough about us. Tell me about Betsy Endicott’s wedding. It’s in just a couple of days, isn’t it?”

“Saturday,” Lauren stated, but suddenly her mind wasn’t on Betsy’s wedding or her troubles. It was on homes and big happy families. Families like Sam’s and her brother’s. Children like Max’s.

“Is something troubling you?” Sam asked, the concern in her voice bringing Lauren back to reality, tearing her thoughts from a pink-cheeked baby in a bassinet and a husband and wife marveling at the bundle of perfection they’d created. She didn’t want to bother Sam with her insecurities about the future, not when Sam had enough to worry about with twins on the way.

“Of course nothing’s troubling me,” Lauren fibbed. “I just wanted to hear your voice, and tell you about the darling baby clothes I bought the other day. I found a place called Baby Gap that has absolutely adorable things. I imagine I got a bit carried away buying shoes and dresses and would you believe, I even found denim overalls and khakis. I picked up some darling sterling sil
ver spoons at Neiman Marcus, and, well, I could tell you everything, but I want you to be surprised when the packages arrive.”

“I’ll call you as soon as they come. Now,” Sam said flatly, “what’s troubling you?”

“Nothing.”

“I know you better than you know yourself, Lauren, so spill!”

What could she say? She didn’t want to tell Sam about Max, because she’d promised Sam she wouldn’t get involved with another man, at least until her business took off. She couldn’t tell her about the problems with finding a caterer, because Sam would tell Jack and Jack would send out the Seventh Cavalry to help. She didn’t want or need her brother’s assistance. She needed to prove to him, just as she needed to prove to herself, that she was perfectly capable of functioning on her own. There was, however, one small thing that had been nagging at her since this afternoon, and she knew Sam would tell her the truth.

“I was accused today of being a ... snob,” Lauren said, her voice nearly a whisper as she uttered the despicable word. “Do you think that’s true?”

“Well—”

“Don’t lie to me, Sam, and please don’t say the polite thing just to protect my feelings. I can handle the truth.”

“You’re not a snob.”

“Thank you,” Lauren said, the words rushing out on a gasp of relief. “I couldn’t imagine you, of all people, thinking that I had an elitist attitude.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” Sam stated, knocking the wind right out of Lauren.

“Finish? But you said I’m not a snob.”

“You’re not. You’re the loveliest person I’ve ever met, but sometimes... Lauren hated the sound of her sister-in-law’s sigh. “Sometimes you’re a little self-centered.”

Lauren took a moment to contemplate Sam’s words. If they’d come from anyone else, she would have tossed back an immediate rebuttal, but she trusted Sam to tell her the truth. “I didn’t realize I was egotistical. I don’t mean to be.”

“I didn’t say egotistical, Lauren. You’re not selfish, either. Goodness, I don’t know anyone as giving and loving as you. It’s just that sometimes you get so carried away with what needs to be done or with what you want to do—like going on a shopping trip or planning a wedding or... or calling someone late at night—that you don’t take into consideration everyone else’s feelings. Sometimes your mind is made up before you listen to what someone else wants or needs.”

Lauren laughed lightly. It was either that, or cry. “I don’t think I’ve ever purposely set out to hurt someone, except when I pushed Peter into that lake, and at the time I was secretly praying that there were alligators in the water.”

Sam laughed, too. “Peter had that coming, but tell me, why did someone call you a snob?”

Because she was, Lauren realized, remembering the way she’d scrutinized Bear’s fingernails, expecting them to be greasy just because he rode
a motorcycle. Hadn’t she thought Chip was a snob when he’d inspected Max in much the same way she’d checked out Bear?

As for Jazz and Gabe, she didn’t know the first thing about either of them, yet she assumed that they’d be lousy waiters. No, she hadn’t assumed that at all. She’d assumed that her friends would laugh at them and at her for hiring them. Which made her, without a doubt, a snob.

But she couldn’t admit this to Sam. It was far too embarrassing. In light of that fact, she knew she’d have to take steps on her own to lessen her snooty ways.

“Who called me a snob and why isn’t all that important,” she told Sam. “Besides, it’s getting late and I really shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“You’re not bothering me.”

Maybe she could get part of it off her chest. “It’s a long story, but one of these days when you have a lot of time I’ll tell you about Max—”

“Who’s Max?”

“Are you sure you want to hear about him now?”

“Positive.”

Lauren sat at the kitchen table, crossed her legs, and pulled her aqua silk robe over her knee. “Max is the man who
was
going to cater Betsy’s wedding.”

“I thought Henri was going to do it.”

“He died yesterday. It was just awful. The poor man keeled over from a heart attack and his funeral’s Saturday—the same day and time as Betsy’s wedding.”

“So who’s Max?”

“The chef who was going to help out. Unfortunately he wanted to hire a bunch of bikers to wait on people and then he called me a snob because... well, just because. So he quit before we even signed a contract, and tonight Charles and I went to Costco because I’m going to cater the entire thing myself.”

“You’re what?”

“I’ve decided to cater Betsy’s wedding. But please don’t tell Jack because he’ll worry and then he’ll want to help me out and I know I can do this all on my own. After all, how hard could it possibly be to whip up a few little hors d’oeuvres?”

“It’s not as simple as it seems,” Sam said. “Why don’t you let us help?”

“Absolutely not. You’ve got a date with an obstetrician.”

“Not for several months.”

“I don’t care how much longer you have, you need to rest and Jack needs to be with you, not here trying to help me out. Trust me, Lauren. Everything’s under control.”

A puff of black smoke suddenly billowed out of the oven.

“Oh, dear!” Lauren shouted, dropping the phone as she ran across the kitchen. “The quiche is on fire!”

oOo

The firemen departed at two-twenty-two, taking with them the last of the chocolate-covered pecan cookies Charles had baked earlier in the day. Lauren had hoped to eat a few of
them herself before going to bed, but the nice-looking men all decked out in fire-fighting gear had seemed to need them more than she. In fact, their disgruntled attitudes had calmed down immensely after she handed them the entire box.

Why they should have been upset was beyond her. After all, it was their job to respond to fires. Maybe she had told the 911 dispatcher that her kitchen was on fire, when it had been merely a small blaze in the oven, but there was no telling what a flaming tray of quiche could have done to her home.

Fortunately, Charles had put out the inferno with a scoop of baking soda minutes before the fire engine arrived.

Dear, sweet Charles. What would she do without him?

Lauren gathered her soot-splattered robe over her chest with one hand and held the dustpan to the floor with the other, helping Charles sweep up the last of the baking soda and bits and pieces of charred canapés.

When they’d completed their task, Charles stood before her in his short purple silk dressing gown and bare feet and asked, “Is there anything more I can do for you?”

“I don’t believe so, but thank you.”

“Very well.” He walked across the kitchen, stopping when he reached the doorway. Turning slowly, he looked back at Lauren. “I was wondering, Miss Remington?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think Mr. Wilde might reconsider
catering Miss Endicott’s wedding if
I
were to ask him?”

“There’s no need for you to do that, Charles. I have every intention of doing it myself.”

A slow smile touched Charles’s mouth. “Very well, Miss Remington.”

She didn’t like to grovel, especially with a man like Max Wilde, but after tonight, she had no other choice.

T
he last thing Max wanted to do was get out of bed at three-thirty-one in the morning, but the incessant knock at the front door forced him to throw off the covers and shoot out of bed before Jamie and Ryan were ripped from their dreams.

He stormed down the hall, stepped on a half-naked Barbie doll sprawling on the living room floor, swept it up before it caused bodily harm to anyone else, and limped the rest of the way to the door.

Getting yanked awake in the middle of the night did not put him in the frame of mind for visitors, especially one knocking nonstop.

Lauren Remington was the last person on earth he’d expected to see when he peered through the
security hole, but who else would have the nerve to pay a social call in the middle of the night?

He slid the chain lock off the door, turned the dead bolt, and opened the door a crack. He rubbed his tired eyes. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

A smile touched her pretty pink lips, and her green eyes sparkled. “It’s three-thirty and I apologize profusely for waking you.”

He tried not to notice how beautiful she looked standing under the dim porch light, but he wasn’t dead, only groggy. He was in complete control of his senses, too, which were yelling,
She may he gorgeous, but what on earth is she doing here in the middle of the night?

He opened the door a little further, figuring he might as well enjoy the view. “Apology accepted.” He attempted to smile in the midst of a yawn. “So, do you mind telling me what you want at this hour of the morning?”