“You know, I drove myself to work this morning. I could’ve driven home.”
He answered with a grunt. He couldn’t possibly explain his compulsion to take care of her. Hopefully, his protectiveness wasn’t ill-placed. Did he dare ask if she planned to keep the baby? If not, would she change her mind if he offered to provide financial help? He had to assume she needed money, or she wouldn’t be driving this dilapidated car. Maybe her ex-husband wasn’t paying child support.
“Tell me about your ex,” he said.
After a moment of silence, she replied, “No.”
“No?”
A glance at her face told him she’d progressed from irritated to angry.
“You don’t have the right to know anything about me. Just like you didn’t have the right to jerk my car keys out of my hand.”
“I had to. You weren’t in any condition to drive.”
“That wasn’t your call to make.”
This probably wasn’t the best time to offer help with her money problems.
“A gentleman doesn’t desert a lady in distress.” He turned onto her street, eyeing her complex—Park Avenue Apartments—with growing repugnance. The run-down buildings had nothing in common with the famous street in New York. He pulled the car in the driveway.
“Right over there.” She pointed to the left. “Park in that spot.”
He pulled to a stop and unfolded himself from the tiny car, racing around to open her door. With the strap of her bag over her shoulder, she climbed out, slicing him to pieces with her eyes.
“Thank you for hijacking my car.” She held out her palm. “I’ll take my keys, now.”
“Please, Brooke…” His heart was doing the fight-or-flight thing. “I want to help you.”
“I don’t want your help.” She snatched the keys from his hand.
“But, what are you going to do about the baby?”
“None of your business.” As she stomped toward her apartment, he followed on her heels until she spat over her shoulder, “Leave me alone.”
“Wait.” He almost grabbed her arm but thought better of it. “I’m sorry I got so pushy. Please give me a chance to explain.”
She reached the stairs and stopped, turning with crossed arms and narrowed eyes. “You’ve got sixty seconds.” Her foot began to tap, counting off the time.
“You have to promise you won’t tell a soul what I’m about to tell you. Don’t you have to sign some sort of oath to protect a person’s privacy when you’re counseling?”
“Thirty seconds.” The foot continued its steady beat.
He should leave now and keep his secret safe. He barely knew this woman. No doubt he’d already lost any chance of coercing her into pilfering information about his mother. Why did his shoes feel like they were full of concrete?
“I was adopted from Hayward Home.” He wished his words back the moment they escaped.
“Are you kidding me?” The doubt in her expression was a relief.
“Yeah. I was just joking.” He backed away and forced out an awkward chuckle, unable to meet her eyes. “I’m sorry I bothered you. Hope you feel better.”
Her eyebrows lifted together, her hand flying to cover her mouth. “Holy crickets! You’re telling the truth, aren’t you?”
“No. Really. I was kidding. I’m actually from Kansas.” He glanced at his watch. “I should get going.”
He reached up to tip his hat, forgetting he’d left it in his truck. As he turned to make his escape, fingers gripped his arm.
“Cole…” Her hair fluttered as she blew a loose strand out of her face. “I know you’re lying. You can’t even look at me.”
“I’m telling the truth, now. I was lying the first time.” He locked eyes with her, hoping she didn’t notice the sweat beading on his forehead.
She shook her head. “We can talk… but you have to be completely honest. Will you promise?”
Part of him wanted to run away as fast as he could, but the other part wavered, gluing his feet in place. Something in her deep brown eyes drew him like a magnet to steel. Was it possible he could trust her? Did he dare take a chance? If she told him she was going to have an abortion, he would probably lose his temper. Then she might retaliate by telling the world his secret.
When he didn’t respond, her lips pressed in a tight line. She whipped around and clomped up the metal stairway, each step ringing her anger. With his chest so tight he could barely breathe, he hurried up behind her.
“Wait, Brooke… Can I ask you one question?”
She stopped, twisting to look over her shoulder. “You can ask. I may not answer.”
“I know this is personal, but…” He swallowed a lump the size of Kansas. “Are you going to keep the baby?”
Her eyes went round, like a possum at night. “Why do you want to know?”
“Just curious. If funds are tight and you don’t have enough money to take care of the baby—”
“Mr. Miller, I’m not giving up this baby for adoption, even if you offer me a million dollars. So if that’s what you’re looking for, this conversation is over.”
