Just His Type (Part Two) Read online

  “Just His Type”

  Rhiannon’s Adventure

  Part Two

  Victoria June

  © 2015 Victoria June

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or person, whether living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. Chapter One

  Chapter One

  My hands shook so badly, I just about dropped the damn thing in the toilet twice. I couldn't look at it either while I waited those long, two minutes for my fate to be decided. I just put the white plastic stick on the edge of the sink and walked away, counting backwards in my head until I reached zero.

  It was the first time I'd done this. I know every woman unintentionally misses her period at least once in her life and has to make that awful trip to the pharmacy for that blue box, all the while feeling like every eye in the place is on her, and every person she passes knows exactly what she's got in her hand, but the shared experience didn't make me feel better, if anything it made me feel worse. Other women made those mistakes. I didn't.

  I fucking hated it. But not knowing was worse.

  My knees were wobbling so much, I had to sit on the edge of the tub, just close enough to the sink that I could reach out and grab the pregnancy test when the time came. More than two minutes passed, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

  You're a scared little chicken shit, Rhiannon Barnes. I took several deep breaths. What the hell was I so afraid of? I'd just have to deal with this the way I dealt with all the other crap that had been thrown at me in my life. There was no rescue coming this time, not if that little white stick told me what I pretty much knew it was going to.

  Pale and shaking, I reached for the wand and forced myself to look at it. Two blue lines. Holy fuck. I dropped it back into the sink, put my head in my hands, and willed myself not to cry. And when I'd gotten myself back together, I reached for the phone and dialed.

  "Good Morning. Dr. Wilson's office." Her voice sounded far away and it took me a second to make my mouth work in response. "This is Rhiannon Barnes," I said, surprised at how cheerful I sounded, like I was a completely different person from the one who's life had just come crashing down around her ears.

  "I'd like to make an appointment."

  ~~~***~~~

  Adele just stared at me, her mouth open, her pretty brown eyes wide. "S-say that again?"

  "I'm pregnant," I repeated. I'd been saying the phrase over and over to myself for the past week, so many times it didn't seem to hold any meaning for me anymore.

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes Adele, I'm fucking sure," I snarled. Her disbelief pissed me off. It's not like I would lie about something this big.

  Instantly, my best friend was apologetic, but I waved her sputtered words off. It's not like it was her fault, so why the hell was she always so apologetic? She was almost as bad as Lilly.

  "But, who?"

  I couldn't help my dirty look. "Who the fuck do you think?"

  Adele's gasp was loud; heads in the restaurant turned. "Joe?"

  I nodded, and an uncomfortable silence descended between us. I pushed a few wilted leaves of my spinach salad around my plate, my appetite gone.

  "But how? I mean I thought you two only... that it was just the one night... didn't you use...?" Adele spluttered and blushed; I let her squirm for a minute because it made me feel better to see her struggle.

  "Yes," I sighed sounding as tired as I felt. "Of course we used condoms, shit Adele, I don't leave the house without them!"

  Adele's eyes were still wide, her own lunch forgotten as she stared at me. "But, how?"

  "Jesus!" I swore, frowning. She was like a broken record and this wasn't how this conversation was supposed to go. She was supposed to pat my hand and tell me everything was going to be okay. "I think the condom broke the second time, or the third... or the fourth, I don't know! I sort of lost track that night." I waved my hand, pushing the issue away. "Point is it did, and now I'm..."

  "Have you told him yet?"

  I snorted in derision. "Hell no. Not going to either."

  Adele's jaw dropped. "But you have to tell him."

  "No, I don't," I shot back. "It's none of his business."

  She looked so shocked I wanted to reach across the table and smack the look off her face. The entire conversation had spun ridiculously out of my control.

  "It's his baby, isn't it?"

  "Of course it is," I grumbled. My glass of water was empty and I shook it threateningly at the closest waitress who scrambled away to fetch me more. God, all I wanted was a glass of wine; this drinking water thing was for the dogs. On doctor's orders I hadn't had a coffee, a cigarette, or a drink in a week. It was killing me.

  "Are you sure?" Adele asked timidly. Her voice wavered and just her hesitation made me soften a little. I did feel sort of bad for putting her in this position, but I had to tell someone. "I mean, there have been a few men—"

  I laughed at Adele's delicacy. A few? "Yeah, that's true. But none lately, no one for a few weeks before Joe and no one since."

  Adele sat back in her chair, her blond ringlets bobbing against her cheeks, her pretty face still painted with shock.

  "Don't look at me like that," I snapped and instantly felt bad when Adele blushed and turned her face away. "I can't handle judgment from you of all people, Lord knows I'll be getting it from everyone else soon enough."

  Adele's smile was sad and I knew only too well that she understood what it was like to have people look at you with pity and shock. She hadn't been divorced that long, and the city was just small enough that almost everyone knew the sordid tale of Harry's infidelity. I tried to muster up a smile of my own.

  "Are you going to keep it?" Adele ventured, when we'd sat quietly for a little while. "You could always get an abortion."

  "Jesus, Adele," I hissed sharply; Adele's eyes filled with tears. I can't say the thought hadn't crossed my own mind more than once over the past few days, but hearing it out loud cemented my refusal to do so.

  "There's always adoption," Adele offered after a time.

  I shrugged and actually managed a polite smile at the waitress as I beckoned her to clear our mostly untouched plates. "I guess so. I don't know yet."

  Adele reached across the table and patted my hand and just the kindness of the gesture brought completely unexpected tears to my eyes. I brushed them away with a grunt of disgust at myself and Adele laughed softly.

  "I think you better get used to that," she chided as she pulled a tissue from her purse and passed it to me.

  "Great," I muttered, but I couldn't keep the edge of laughter out of my voice and Adele giggled again.

  "Are you going to tell Lilly?"

  I pulled my wallet from my handbag, handing my credit card to the waitress as she passed by while I ignored Adele's small noise of disapproval. It was the least I could do to buy her lunch.

  "I just got back onto speaking terms with Lilly, I don't think that this is going to help. I guess she'll have to find out eventually, but I don't think I can tell her its Joe's. She couldn't keep that a secret."

  "So what are you going to tell her? That you don't know whose baby it is?" />
  The look of incredulity on Adele's face made me smile. "Is that so hard to believe?"

  "You have to tell Joe, Rhi... you have to. It's only fair to him. He'd help you out, I know he would. It's going to be so hard to raise a baby on your own, if you decide to keep it. You have to tell him."

  I sat back in my chair and considered Adele for a moment. I knew she was right, but I didn't think I could handle Joe-fucking-Tanner swooping in and telling me how things were going to be. We'd only spoken a few times since that night and both of us had agreed that since we knew it couldn't go anywhere, there wasn't any point in trying.

  "Promise me you won't say anything to any one, and I'll think about telling him," I lied.

  Adele smiled and diplomatically changed the topic.

  ~~~***~~~

  I dreamt about Joe that night. About his broad shoulders, his large hands, his auburn hair. About the way he smelled, the way he kissed, and the way he fucked. I woke up in a sweat, staring at the ceiling, and cursing out loud. Why couldn't I forget the feeling of his hands on my breasts? The way he'd bent to taste my nipples? The warm, dragging, greedy slide of his lips against my skin? He'd whispered over and over again of how beautiful I was, how soft, how amazing—and for the first time in my life I'd believed it.

  I hadn't expected to see Joe standing there that night when I went over to Lilly's. I hadn't thought about him in ages, hadn't ever really given him any thought at all, to be honest. He was always in the background at her family things, the only stuff I knew about him were the few facts and many complaints Lilly had shared over the years.

  I don't know what got into me that night, what was wrong with me. I accepted his invitation to come in and we just sat on the couch and talked for a while. I'd never heard him say so much, not in all the years I'd known him. I don't know why I hadn't noticed before how blue his eyes were. I could tell he'd been drinking a little, but I didn't care. He was funny that night, a little earnest, very sweet. We talked about everything under the sun before I had the sudden urge to lean over and kiss him.

  He didn't respond at first, he just froze in place and didn't move until I put my hands against his broad chest. I don't know what got into me; I was just about to stop and apologize when he kissed me back.

  I'm not sure what I'd been expecting, but I wasn't expecting that. He kissed like he couldn't get enough of me and I'd never been kissed like that before. Of all the men I've ever kissed, not a single one of them ever kissed me like Joe Tanner did. It was dizzying, unbelievable, so much so, that I could hardly think, hardly breathe. When he took me to bed, I followed willingly, let myself be lost in every thing he offered.

  He's the only man who ever made me feel small, like I wasn't five-foot-nine and a hundred-and-sixty-three pounds, like I was petite and delicate like Lilly, or slender and lithe like Adele. Like I was a lady to be cared for and petted, not just some girl to be fucked.

  All I could think about, over and over, was how could someone so large be so gentle? So good with his hands? How could someone know instantly all the spots that make me moan? For the first time in my life, I didn't have to worry about having an orgasm; he gave me several, easily. It felt like I was the one who'd had too much to drink, I was lightheaded, giddy and not myself. And in the morning he leaned over me and smiled and was glad to see me, glad I was still there waking up beside him.

  We both knew we'd never do it again and at the time I thought that was okay.

  I stared up at the ceiling. It is okay. It has to be. There was no future for Joe and I. Nothing between us but a night we should never have had. There was no way we'd ever be able to make anything work, we were too different, but for one night he'd made me feel good, better than any man ever had. Joe-fucking-Tanner: who'd have thought it possible?

  I put a hand to my stomach, still as flat as it was ever going to be, even with the million crunches I'd done over the years. For the first time since I was a little girl I didn't know what to do, so I did the only thing I could think of. For the first time since I was a little girl, I cried myself back to sleep.

  ~~~***~~~

  The door to the shop creaked open and the little brass bell sounded cheerfully; instantly the noise made me feel better. If anyone could make me see sense in the situation I found myself in, it would be Mrs. Nichol. She'd owned the ladies clothing store on Queen Street for decades, and I'd been working for her on and off since university. She was the closest thing I had to a mother, although I'd never in a million years admit that to anyone.

  The pay wasn't great, but since my dad had passed away I didn't need to worry about money, his was more than even I could spend. I worked for Mrs. N. because I liked her, liked that she'd gradually let me change things around in her store, let me come and go as I pleased. In the ten years since I'd started working there Nichol's Ladies Wear had morphed from strictly the sort of place only your grandmother would shop to one of the most popular stores in the downtown core. We drew in blue-haired little old ladies and creative, cash-strapped students and everyone in between; the tourists loved us. I won't take all the credit, but I can admit I had a hand in it.

  Nichol's Ladies Wear was an island institution, a combination of classic, professional attire and funky, fashionable pieces you couldn't find anywhere else. I'd spent a good amount of time trying to find unique designers whose product would blend well with the more traditional selection Mrs. N. and her long-time customers preferred. We also did custom work and during wedding, prom, and tourist season, had as many as a dozen sales clerks on staff. Off-season though it was usually just Mrs. N., her three granddaughters Stephanie, Jessica, Kelly, and me. No matter what was happening in my life, the store was always a comforting constant and Mrs. Nichol was my rock.

  The store was empty when I stepped in off the street, and I could hear the sound of Mrs. N's sewing machine whirring the backroom. It stopped almost as soon as the bell sounded though; the woman might be pushing seventy, but she has ears like a freakin' hawk.

  "It's just me," I yelled as I shucked off my jacket and tossed it behind the counter. Mrs. N. didn't need to be jumping up and rushing out on my account. Knowing my luck she'd fall and break a hip.

  She poked her head out from behind the curtain separating the store from the backroom and smiled. Her hair was a thinning halo of short, white curls which she faithfully had "done" every week at the salon next door, even though there was less and less of it every year to style. Her glasses weren't perched on the end of her nose like they usually were, which meant that she more than likely put them down and forgot about them. I'd have to find them later.

  "Rhiannon! Hold on, I'll put the coffee pot on."

  "Don't bother just for me Mrs. N.," I said quickly. "I've given it up."

  The expression on her dear old face was quizzical and she eyed me for a few moments. "Need something stronger, love? I've got brandy around here somewhere."

  "Gave that up too," I said with a heavy sigh.

  Both her white eyebrows shot to the ceiling and she moved slowly across the room to settle with a few creaks in one of the armchairs in the center of the room. I'd had chairs brought in a few months earlier; I told Mrs. N. they were for weary customers and waiting husbands, but really it was because I knew she spent way too fucking long on her feet every day and should be resting whenever she could.

  "Spit it out, girl," she ordered. "Either hell's frozen over or something's wrong. I never thought I'd see the day my Rhiannon turned down a drink."

  I grinned despite myself. And then I surprised myself again, telling her everything, every last detail of what I'd done and where I found myself. I hadn't meant to unload all that shit on her, but once I started talking the words wouldn't stop.

  When I was finished Mrs. N. sat back in her chair and regarded me carefully with her ever calm brown eyes. Every year, every month, it seemed like she became more frail, smaller, more delicate, but those eyes always stayed the same. They missed nothing.

  "Well?" I prompted
when I was done but still she remained quiet. I'd been nervous to tell her, not just because she was ostensibly my employer, but because she was of a vastly different generation than my own and I couldn't let myself hope that she'd understand or accept. My gut twisted at the thought of her letting me go and unconsciously I found myself putting my hand over my stomach again, wanting to calm it, to calm myself.

  "Well, I'd say you're in a bit of a pickle, aren't you?" Mrs. N. stated.

  "A bit," I admitted. I sounded sheepish and that wasn't like me at all. "I need some advice."

  Her smile was soft but her eyes were sharp. "I think you know what I'm going to say, Rhiannon. I've known you for a long time now, watched you grow up from a gangly teenager and I love you like you were my own. As long as this is my shop, there will always be a place here for you. You say you want my advice, but you don't need it. You know the right thing to do. You certainly don't need me to tell you that."