Falling for the Mum-to-Be. Lynne MarshallЧитать онлайн книгу.
reached for his forearm and squeezed. “You suffered, too, Leif. I can only imagine.”
Their eyes locked for a couple of moments. New understanding passed between them. He studied her as if he was trying to figure out if he appreciated her concern, or if he resented the pity. It wasn’t pity, as far as she was concerned. This connection was an honest desire to offer him comfort. She wondered how he’d managed to survive losing his entire family. How lost he must be all by himself. In such a short time, she’d already figured out he deserved much more than this lot in life. And she had nothing to complain about. She had her health, a baby on board and a profession she loved. She almost had everything...except a man.
“If it wasn’t for the business, I think I would have gone nuts.”
“You’re a survivor. A person can tell that about you right off.” She started to remove her hand, but he reached for it and squeezed, holding tight for a moment before releasing her. His warm touch surprised her. In twenty-four hours it had already changed from their initial mechanical handshake.
“What do you say we go shopping?” He’d obviously had enough of this heavy conversation. His story was probably the last part of Heartlandia history he’d wanted to dig up today, but she was glad he had. It helped put so many things in perspective.
“Let’s do it.” She smiled and he returned it, in obvious relief. They’d come to a realization—they’d both been knocked in the teeth by life. The major difference was his love had died, and though she’d broken off with the person she once thought was the love of her life, she had a new life growing inside her. She wasn’t about to complain about that, especially when all Leif had been left with was an empty house.
With masks firmly back in place, they got out of the cab and she followed him into the store for some major distraction.
* * *
An hour and a half later, ten minutes shy of the hardware closing time, they rolled two shopping carts filled to overflowing to the checkout. Gallon after gallon of top-quality mural paints in a dozen different colors plus protective clear varnish to ward off the effects of weather. Primer, which Leif would apply after preparing the walls for her. Every size and shape brush she could possibly need, drop cloths and plastic basins for mixing colors. Thinners. Thickeners. On and on and on the supplies piled up on the counter.
“Oh, we can’t forget these,” Marta said adding several packages of paint odor valved respirators to the pile.
When the total rang up, Leif didn’t blink. Marta tried to not look but noticed anyway and was surprised by the total. “Put it on my account,” he said.
Both pushing a cart back to his truck, she couldn’t ignore where her thoughts had been heading since they’d walked into the store. “So you’re the town benefactor for this project?”
He tried to look surprised but did a poor job of it and immediately came clean. “I made a bundle building that college,” he said while opening the tailgate and beginning to unload the supplies. “When the topic came up about the mural, the committee balked at the expense. I volunteered to see it through. That’s all.”
“I’m being paid very well. You must be a rich man.”
“Like I said, I’ve been blessed with a successful family business.”
“That you’ve obviously grown into a mega business.”
He nodded, playing down the blood, sweat and tears that must have gone into the process. “True.”
She tapped his chest. “You’re far too humble, Leif Andersen.”
He laughed. “Not that humble. Truth is, I want this mural to be a kind of legacy for my family. For my father, who added so much to this community, and my mother, who’d always been a patron of the arts. And for my wife, who believed in the community college from the start, when everyone said it was a crazy idea.”
“Like I said, you’re too humble.” As she handed him another can of paint, their gazes clicked with perception and they finished unloading in silence.
One more unsettling thought occurred to Marta as they emptied the carts. There was a huge similarity to his position of benefactor and her recent personal history with Lawrence. Hadn’t she vowed to never let that happen again? The difference was, this was a job. She’d been hired. There was nothing personal between them. Though they’d definitely reached a new understanding this afternoon. She’d opened up to him, and he’d opened up to her. They’d shared a special moment in the car.
Something had come over her after hearing his heart-wrenching story, and she couldn’t help herself. She’d reached out for him in the parking lot and they’d connected. Spending the afternoon with Leif had been the highlight of her day, and how crazy was that for a pregnant woman?
She was in Heartlandia for a job, and though the city had hired her, Leif was writing the paychecks. No matter how appealing he was, she’d keep everything between her and Leif from here on out strictly professional.
She had no choice.
It had been four days since Leif had told Marta about his wife and she’d told him about the pregnancy—and they’d shared a special moment. But she’d pulled back. He’d gotten up each morning and left for work before she was awake, though a time or two he’d heard her losing her cookies before he’d left. When he came home, he’d walk the dogs. Inevitably, by the time he’d gotten back she’d have left a note on the kitchen counter saying she’d already eaten and not to cook for her.
Mostly, she’d stayed in her studio. He knew she was working hard at placing the grid on her preliminary mural, but wasn’t she getting cabin fever? The most surprising part was how he’d already missed what little interaction they’d had those first couple of days. Here he’d been living as if he didn’t need anyone anymore, yet her presence made him hungry for companionship. What was that about?
He didn’t think less of her because she was pregnant, but did she think he did? Maybe it mattered to her that he was a man who’d never managed to get his life back on track once he’d lost his wife. Or maybe she felt as though she’d told him too much and wanted to keep things on a different level. He couldn’t figure out the change in her by guessing, that was for sure.
One thing he did know—he owed her some kind of explanation about why she was blocked with her painting. It wasn’t her imagination; there was a reason and she deserved to hear it, yet he’d kept her dangling in the dark. Sure, there was going to be a town-wide meeting tomorrow morning breaking the news, but why let Marta think she was a little cuckoo for having those weird feelings about the beginning of Heartlandia’s history for one more day? Besides, it would give him an excuse to draw her out of the artist’s cave.
She was one perceptive woman, and he hoped his reason for asking her to take a ride with him right now wasn’t nearly as transparent as he suspected it might be. He missed her and wanted to spend some time with her. Was that a crime? Something about her, besides her good looks, called out to him.
Whatever the reason, it was only three o’clock on a beautiful day. Why not take advantage of it? He rushed up the steps and tapped on the studio door.
“Come in,” she said softly.
“Haven’t seen you in a while.” He entered the studio, aware of the huge mess. “How are you?”
“Doing well.”
That was not how she looked. Weren’t pregnant women supposed to have some kind of glow or something? She looked pale and tired and maybe even a little thinner than when she’d first arrived. How long was morning sickness supposed to last?
“The grid almost done?”
She nodded. “I’ll be ready to go by next week. I’m going to work backward with the painting, like we talked