A Suitable Wife: A Sweetwater Springs Novel Read Online Free

thinking he’d been flirting with her. Why would he? The man was attracted to twig women. More likely he was as nervous as she was about the weird friends-but-strangers thing. It was disconcerting, feeling so distant from someone you once knew well.
    He slipped the key into his pocket and stood Lorelei on the floor. “Looks nice. Do we get the grand tour?”
    “Right this way.” Rosie led them through the small apartment, which consisted of five rooms and a hallway. Just as she completed the short tour, J.T. came through the front door, his sandy blond hair shorter than she’d seen it in awhile.
    “Hey, man. You finally gettin’ back to God’s country?” he asked.
    Sam laughed, and they slapped each other’s backs with hearty enthusiasm. “Thanks for your advice on the move. The apartment is perfect, and Rosie tells me there’s even a park nearby. I owe you one.”
    “That’s easy. Keep the books coming.”
    “Ah, yes. My agent’s favorite comeback. I’ll be playing catch-up for a couple weeks yet.”
    Rosie excused herself. They could muddle through the reunion without her. She went through the connecting door and upstairs to transform her hair from a low braid to a high inverted ponytail. There. Much better. More practical. Now it wouldn’t be flopping over her shoulder or swinging wildly while she worked.
    That the style looked perky rather than dowdy had nothing to do with . . . anything.
    When she returned to the apartment, a small stack of haphazardly labeled boxes had been placed in each room. Sam had settled Lorelei in a large playpen in the living room with a few picture books and toys. The child’s dark gaze swung Rosie’s way, watching her as she passed through the room.
    She could see Jasmine’s looks in the little girl’s dusky skin and large eyes, but none of her features stood out as replicas of Sam’s. Right now those eyes regarded her with sober deliberation as if Lorelei couldn’t decide whether she wanted Rosie any closer or not.
    Ditto, kid .
    Rosie tackled the child’s room first, figuring she’d need a nap soon. Sam or J.T. popped in occasionally to drop off another box and spent a good half-hour putting the crib together. From several boxes marked “L’s room,” she unpacked books, toys, and dozens of small outfits still on their hangers. She shook them and hung them in the closet. The last box was slightly larger than the others and bulky.
    She pushed it into the small walk-in and pulled the tape off. How many clothes did one toddler need? Folding back the flaps, she stared at the tiny pink garments it contained.
    Lorelei wouldn’t be wearing these again. They must be meant for storage. With shaky hands, she replaced the flaps without touching the contents, but the powdery, clean baby scent that lingered on them reached her nose. Remembered pain—a phantom from the past—speared through her abdomen, weakening her knees.
    She pressed a hand to her stomach. Unbidden images assaulted her, of a child she would never hold, the feelings as fresh and anguished as if it had been yesterday. Tears rushed to the surface. Oh, God. She had to get out of here.
    Rosie stepped backwards from the closet and into a hard wall of bone and muscle. “Oomph!”
    She turned too quickly and stumbled.
    Sam grabbed her upper arms to steady them both. “You okay?”
    Nodding, she stared into his concerned gaze.
    “You’re crying.”
    “No. No, I’m not. It’s . . . dust from the boxes. Must’ve gotten some in my eyes.” His gaze flicked to her upper arms, his concern turning to mild alarm.
    Gradually, she tamped down the pain, becoming aware she’d raised her arms in a defensive gesture, and the backs of his thumbs were pillowed against the outside of her breasts. Her nipples pebbled, yet he appeared more embarrassed than she.
    “I’m fine.” She whispered, her mouth desert-dry, pulse rapid. Slowly, she raised her elbows out to the side. Sam took a quick step back, releasing her and his