“I’m sorry, but it wouldn’t be ethical.” Her chest hurt, watching his shoulders droop at her words. “Can’t you just choose to believe that’s what happened?”
“You think I’m screwed up, don’t you?” His laugh was bitter. “Well, you’re right. But usually I cover it up.”
“You’re not any more screwed up than I am.” She shifted as her stomach protested its emptiness in a loud way.
He frowned and rose to his feet. “You need dinner. Let me cook something for you.”
Seeing to her needs seemed to pop him out of his melancholy, an encouraging sign that he wasn’t clinically depressed.
“You can cook? I figured you had a private chef at your house.”
His lips curved in a crooked grin as he walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “My mother would kill me if I wasted money like that. I even do my own laundry.”
“That’s amazing! Do you clean your own bathroom, too?”
He peeked around the refrigerator door. “No, but please don’t tell Mom I hired someone to clean.”
“So you don’t have a chauffeur driving you around in a limo?”
“I drive my own Ford pickup, and it’s even been mudding.”
“That sounds fun. I’ve always wanted to go mudding.”
“I’ll take you mudding sometime on my ranch.” He said it like it was nothing. Cole Miller offered to take her mudding. The Cole Miller. It was starting to feel like a weird dream again.
Harper was going to die when she heard about Cole’s visit. Brooke had already ignored ten phone calls from her. No doubt, if she weren’t living four hours away in Baton Rouge, she’d be knocking on Brooke’s door.
He stuck his head back into the fridge. “You’ve got nothing in here.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ll go to the grocery store tomorrow after I get paid. I can eat some cereal for dinner tonight.”
“You’re pregnant. You need to eat healthy.” His scolding tone struck her wrong.
“That’s none of your business. You have to cut me some slack, anyway. I just found out this morning.”
He slammed the refrigerator door closed and marched back. “You mean you haven’t even been to the doctor? Should we go to the emergency clinic?”
“There’s no hurry to see a doctor. Besides, I have to keep it a secret as long as possible, so I can’t take off work.”
“Why hide it? Was your ex abusive?” He perched on the edge of the couch, his expression so worried she forgave him for being intrusive.
“Nathan was a jerk at the end but not an abuser.”
“Then why can’t people know you’re pregnant?”
She waffled for a moment between protecting her privacy or telling him the truth. But after he’d been so vulnerable, she felt obliged to do the same.
“The board at Hayward Home is really conservative. I had to be a married church-attender to even be considered for the job. They probably won’t like having a divorced woman counseling their unwed mothers, much less a divorced pregnant woman.” She cut him off before he could argue the point. “They’re allowed to discriminate for things like that for professional employees. I’m technically employed by a church.”
The furrow between his brows deepened. Then he smiled and reached over with his real hand to pat her knee. “You don’t need that job. If they fire you, I’ll take care of you.”
“I don’t want your money.” She knocked the condescending hand away, refusing to admit his touch had sent a thrill to the tips of her toes. “After what happened with Nathan, I never want to be dependent on a man again. Anyway, I need that job to get my counseling hours in so I can get my license.”
“But I need to make this right.” Cole popped to his feet and began to pace, his frenzied movements contrasting with the molasses in Brooke’s veins. “That’s what I do. I fix things. Obviously, I’m not that great with my hands, so I fix things with money.”
“Some things can’t be fixed with money.” She could think of several ways a large amount of money could solve most of her problems, but it felt wrong. In her heart, she knew she’d regret accepting that kind of charity, no matter how tempting the money and its source.
Her stomach growled again. “There is something you can do for me. Two things.”
He turned to face her. “Anything. What do you want?”
“First, can you grab a box of Cheerios out of the cabinet next to the stove?”
He practically sprinted into the kitchen. “Where are the bowls?”
“I don’t need a bowl. Just bring me the box.”
He returned with the cereal and a grimace. “Plain, dry Cheerios?”
She dug her hand into the half-empty box. “I never put milk on my cereal. Soggy cereal is gross.”
His head gave a little shake. “What’s the other thing?”
“This is a big one…” She knew he’d balk at her next request, but she had to try. “And it’s probably impossible.”
“I can’t make independent decisions about Phantom Enterprises or Limitless, but other than that, I’ll do my best. What is it?”
“I mentioned it before, but I’m serious about it. Can you try to get my sister on Millionaire Matchup?”
