Baby Wanted

By Renee Andrews

EmmaKay Carraway has three goals to accomplish before age thirty: a husband, a baby and a minivan. Ten years ago, when she dated Ben Dupree and he promised her a ring, she’d thought that vision would become her reality. In fact, she wouldn’t have been surprised if she and Ben had two or three babies in that minivan by the time she was thirty. Then Ben left town and tossed her crushed heart in his wake. So when she finds a baby on a doorstep merely months before her thirtieth birthday, she believes God is helping her achieve at least one part of her plan. 

Then Ben Dupree shows up in her bakery. Still as handsome as ever, he acts as though she should welcome him back to Claremont with open arms. Not happening. But when she needs an extra set of hands in her bakery, only one person shows up for the job, and she can’t stop that pull toward the first guy who won her heart. But can she control her emotions when she learns that the man she’s falling for again may be the very thing that keeps her from having the baby she adores? 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Renee Andrews
• Release date: Jul 20, 2015
• ISBN: 9781513029023

Renee Andrews

Renee Andrews spends a lot of time in the gym. No, she isn't working out. Her husband, a former All-American gymnast, coaches gymnastics. Renee is a kidney donor and actively supports organ donation. When she isn't writing, she enjoys traveling with her husband and bragging on their sons, daughters-in-law and grandchildren. For more info on her books or on living donors, visit her website at www.reneeandrews.com.

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Chapter One

Ben Dupree needed a yeast-filled, icing-coated cinnamon roll about as much as he needed to run a Class Six rapid.

He never ate breakfast, didn’t like the way he felt after eating this early in the day, particularly after carbs. Yet he walked toward Carraway’s Bakery on the Claremont, Alabama town square as though he couldn’t wait to join the rest of the town in devouring one of Mamie Carraway’s famed pastries.

A string of jingle bells left over from Christmas bounced against the door handle as he entered, even though it was nearly the end of August. But regardless of the sound, hardly anyone turned to see the newest patron. They were all too busy maintaining their places in line and scanning the assorted treats in the display cases.

A combined aroma of chocolate, yeast, cinnamon, strawberries and other equally tantalizing scents created a mouthwatering cloud of temptation that had customers bouncing on the balls of their feet to jockey for their position in line.

Ben took a place at the back, but instead of perusing the available sweets, he watched the door from the kitchen to view any additional bakery employees that might emerge. Only one young brunette worked the counter, and she wasn’t who he wanted to see.

He knew EmmaKay wouldn’t be here. She’d undoubtedly left Claremont the minute she finished attending college in nearby Stockville, but her grandmother should be around. Or if Miss Mamie wasn’t at the bakery, surely another of the Carraway kinfolks would be on-hand and able to answer a casual question about what happened to the golden-haired beauty he’d left behind.

Ben could’ve asked his mother about EmmaKay, but given she’d only recently stopped mentioning the way he’d rudely treated the girl she’d wanted for a daughter-in-law, he’d decided it best not to bring her up. Besides, it’d been ten years since he’d seen his high school sweetheart. Chances were, she’d married some great guy and had a couple of kids. He’d only come to the bakery now because he was curious about what happened in her world.

That was it. Pure curiosity. Nothing more, nothing less.

Which didn’t coincide with the way he kept peering at that doorway to the kitchen as though hoping she’d pass through. Why hadn’t he at least attempted to contact EmmaKay over the past decade, explained why he’d never returned and asked for forgiveness.

Because, obviously, he didn’t have that whole forgiving thing down pat. The past two weeks were proof of that, and look where that got him, burying a father he hadn’t spoken to in ten years.

The silver-haired lady in front of him backed up to get out of the way of the customer who’d paid and consequently stepped on Ben’s foot. Excuse me, she said, finally turning to see the man behind her and then gasping. Benjamin? Benjamin Dupree?

Ben racked his brain for details. Elementary school librarian. Nice lady. She’d read lots of stories to the girls about princesses and cool ones to the boys about mountains and caves. In fact, she’d helped produce his and EmmaKay’s initial spark to see the world beyond Claremont. But Ben was at a loss for her name.

Oh, my. Maybe I’m wrong. That happens when you get my age, she said with a chuckle. I thought for sure you were a young man I taught years ago who moved away from Claremont after high school.

Ben shook his head, feeling badly about blanking out on her name. You got it right, he said, and prayed he gained some insight as to her identity. I’m Ben Dupree.

I thought so!  She clapped pink-tipped fingers on age-spotted hands together and smiled broadly. You’re a whole lot taller than I remember, but I’d never forget those eyes. Not just the color, though that blue got my attention, but the excitement there.  She pointed toward his face and tilted her head, then gave him a half-wink, as though picturing him as a seven-year-old again. It’s still there, that excitement I remember. 

Ben shifted from one foot to the other, a little uncomfortable with her piercing stare.

A man holding a toddler paid for his order and, like the earlier guy, bumped into the lady when he turned to leave. Sorry, Mrs. Ivey, he said, and Ben was glad that he now had a name for the woman. Then the guy looked at him. Ben? Hey man, good to see you. Mandy said she’d heard you were coming to the reunion. When’d you get back in town?

Daniel Brantley looked almost the same as he had ten years ago, except his hair was shorter and he had a little girl cradled in his arm. Ben didn’t know much about kids, but she looked to be around two, and her features were identical to Daniel’s, same blue eyes and sandy hair.

I got here last night.

I guess I’ll see you tomorrow at the park, right? You are coming to the picnic, aren’t you? Or are you just doing the dinner?

Plan to do both, Ben said.

Awesome. We can catch up then. Right now, I need to get the doughnuts to Mandy. We’re expecting again in June, and this pregnancy has her craving chocolate-filled doughnuts.  He lifted the red and white Carraway Bakery bag. Plus, our oldest, Kaden, had already proclaimed he was starving before I left the house.

We can catch up tomorrow.  Ben couldn’t believe Daniel and Mandy had two kids already, much less a third on the way. What other changes had happened to his former classmates?

Mrs. Ivey waited for Daniel to leave and then, with two people still between her and the cash register, barged ahead with her conversation. "So Ben, you always wanted to do big things, go to big places. I remember your speech as valedictorian. It was one of my favorites, the way you read those pieces from Dr. Seuss’s Oh, the Places You’ll Go! I was so proud.  She tweaked his bicep. I’m pretty sure you first heard that book in one of my library classes."

He nodded. I believe I did.

Where all have you been? Last time I talked to your mom at church, she said you were teaching surf lessons in, let’s see, was it Hawaii?

Actually, it was California, he said.

Still far from here, she said. So exciting that you got to do the things you dreamed about. You still living in California?

No ma’am. That was a couple of years back.  And two jobs ago. He’d been a mountain climbing instructor and then a river guide since his stint at surfing. But that final run down the Ocoee River had put an abrupt end to his last daredevil job, an abrupt end to his desire to go so many places and see so many things. He’d returned home to Claremont, Alabama to attempt to remember what it felt like to be normal. No risks. No adventures. Back to the small town that’d raised him. And away from the lure of the unknown.

What would his life have been like if he’d have followed the typical path like everyone else? Settled down in one place. Married. Had kids like Daniel and Mandy. He had no doubt who he’d have done that with, if he’d have gone the normal route. The girl whose grandmother owned this bakery.

Yay, I’m up, Mrs. Ivey said, leaving their conversation and stepping to the counter. I’d like two dozen doughnut holes, please.

Yes, ma’am, Mrs. Ivey. The girl turned and called toward the kitchen, We need more doughnut holes!

I’ll be right out with them! a lyrical voice called back.

Ben’s blood stilled. That sounded like EmmaKay. He’d adored the ultra-Southern accent she’d had in high school. Her parents had often joked that EmmaKay couldn’t speak in single syllables, and Ben had loved listening to her talk.

That person in the kitchen had the same sweet accent. But EmmaKay wouldn’t be in Claremont, would she? No, it had to be a Carraway relative. One of her many Carraway cousins who now worked in the bakery and had a voice that sparked his memories of late night conversations at Hydrangea Park. Or Jasper Falls. Or wherever they happened to be. Conversations of life and love and the future. Talks about marriage. And babies. Before he’d gotten his first glimpse of the world...and decided he wanted to see more.

The clerk behind the counter gave Mrs. Ivey the last of the doughnut holes. Then the librarian said goodbye to the girl and to Ben and then to everyone else in line as she made her way out of the shop.

While Ben waited to see the owner of that voice.

What would you like? the girl behind the counter asked.

Ben had been prepared to ask for a cinnamon roll and then also ask about EmmaKay, but then the object of his thoughts emerged from the kitchen carrying a parchment-lined tray towering with fried dough. A dozen doughnut holes, he said.

EmmaKay stopped so quickly that three of the doughnut holes rolled off the tray and plopped to the tiled floor. Her hair was pulled up, but one long golden corkscrew escaped captivity and dangled behind her right ear. Ben recalled how much he’d enjoyed kissing her there, and how, back then, he’d wanted nothing more than to hold her, kiss her, forever.

Her mouth opened, and then her eyebrows dipped and she scowled.

The girl at the cash register still had her back to EmmaKay, so she couldn’t see her reaction to Ben. Or maybe she wouldn’t have sweetly asked, EmmaKay, can you box a dozen doughnut holes for this gentleman?

Trust me, Gabi, he is no gentleman. 

Gabi’s shoulders lifted, and she slowly turned to see EmmaKay sliding the tray into the case with more force than necessary, which caused a few more doughnut holes to roll to freedom, though these merely found a new home on trays filled with cookies. EmmaKay made no effort to collect the ones that escaped and instead grabbed a bakery box while shooting daggers with her eyes at Ben.

Gabi giggled, which earned a laser glare in her direction. She promptly swallowed past the sound and turned her attention to the next customer. Um, yes, sir, can I help you?

Ben couldn’t stop staring. She’d been pretty ten years ago, but she was drop dead gorgeous now, her high cheek bones a little more defined, her mouth fuller than he recalled and those dark eyes as intense as he remembered. He’d always thought EmmaKay attractive when she was laughing and smiling and loving him. Now he knew she was equally mesmerizing when she was furious.

Ben Dupree. After ten years and endless nights of trying to get his image off of her mind, he stood on the other side of the bakery counter looking every bit as spellbinding as she remembered.

Or more.

The short waves of dark brown hair from high school were longer now and disheveled, matching the carefree style of his wardrobe, a fitted gray long-sleeved t-shirt with an orange half zipper that matched the Mountain Hardwear logo on the left side of his chest. A chest that seemed broader than she remembered. Sturdy. Muscled.

She swallowed, not wanting to remember how amazing it’d felt to have her head against his chest, to feel the solid thudding of his heart against her ear as he told her that he loved her, that he wanted to marry her.

Bothered that her skin tingled merely at the thought of being in his arms, she turned away and shoved doughnut holes inside the box without counting the warm puffs of fried dough. Her mind was too rattled to count. She could’ve given him two dozen for all she knew, but she pushed the lid closed and slid the box across the top of the glass display case. There.

He lifted a dark eyebrow. I don’t have to pay?

EmmaKay heard Gabi stifle another giggle but didn’t take the trouble to give the teenager another dirty look. It wasn’t her fault that she was so frazzled. It was his. Five dollars.

He withdrew his wallet from his back pocket, and she watched long, masculine fingers slide over the cash before withdrawing the single bill. Once upon a time, he’d pushed her hair away, cradled her face with those fingers and then kissed her until she completely melted. Here you go.  He slid the five across the counter, and she took it, taking extra care not to let their hands touch.

If watching his fingers made her feel like this, who knew what touching would do?

Then he left the bakery, and EmmaKay—and everyone else in line—watched him go. Apparently, they’d caused a scene, because the dozen or so people waiting on bakery items weren’t making any effort to move forward or do anything but gawk at EmmaKay.

She turned to Gabi, also goggling. What? she asked.

You overcharged him. 

EmmaKay had been so focused on getting rid of him that she’d merely blurted what she figured would be the easiest amount for a transaction. But Gabi was right, and she needed to fix her mistake. Besides, now that she had a chance to gain her composure, she had a thing or two to say to the traveling man. You’re right, I did.  Then she deposited his five in the cash register, collected the correct change and headed for the door.

She spotted him a short distance down the sidewalk looking at the window display at Bowers’ Sporting Goods. Before thinking about what she was doing, she called out, Ben!

He turned, and she was treated to the first thing that had taken her breath away when they dated. Those crystal blue eyes, an icy pale aqua even more penetrating against that dense forest of dark lashes. EmmaKay slowed her pace and attempted to also slow her racing heart, not an easy feat, as she moved toward the guy who seemed at least a couple of inches taller than he’d been in high school.

You need me? he asked.

Yes, she wanted to say, or rather, she’d needed him. Ten years ago, when he said he was coming back at Christmas break with a wedding ring and then he didn’t even call. She cleared her throat. I didn’t give you your change.

I gave you a five, he said. You said they were five dollars.

I was wrong. Doughnut holes are three-ninety-nine a dozen, or four-thirty-two with tax, so here’s your change.  She held out the coins and then held her breath as his fingers brushed her palm when he took them.

Okay. Thanks.  He pocketed the change then he stood there, not saying anything else, as if he were waiting for her to turn around and retreat.

But EmmaKay couldn’t simply walk away. What if he was about to leave town again, and what if this was the only chance she’d ever get to ask him everything she’d been thinking of for the past ten years? She took a deep breath. Why are you here?

His mouth slid to the side, eyes glanced toward the window display of some rafting gear at the sporting goods shop. My ten year reunion is tomorrow.

Right. She should’ve thought of that. She’d been listening to several of his classmates talk about it and even had several items the reunion committee had ordered for the event on this weekend’s to-do list at the bakery. Her own ten year reunion had been last year, which reminded her that, at twenty-nine, she was a year older than Ben, another fact that added insult to injury when he broke her heart.

He shifted the bakery box from one arm to the other, and she remembered something else. Why did you come to the bakery? You don’t even like sweets.

A hint of color etched his cheeks, and she knew she’d hit the mark. Then he opened the box, withdrew a doughnut hole and tossed it in his mouth. I do now.

And now she could add lying to the list of things he’d done to hurt her. Terrific. She shook her head and turned on her heel, not caring whether she saw him again or not.

She made it three steps.

EmmaKay, wait.

Part of her wanted to increase her stride and act as though she didn’t hear him, but at this time of morning, just past seven-thirty, most of the stores hadn’t opened, and they were the only two on this section of the sidewalk. So she took a deep breath and faced him. What?

You’re right. I don’t care all that much about these, he held up the box, but they’re better than I remember, especially when they’re warm.  He grinned. And I do eat sweets occasionally now.

She scanned his tall, muscled frame, and noted that even well-worn, fairly loose jeans couldn’t hide the definition in his quads or his lean hips. You don’t eat them much. And I still don’t think you came to the bakery because you were craving doughnut holes.

No, he admitted, I came because I wanted to know how you were doing.

Her knees gave a little, his honesty surprised her so, and she wasn’t sure how to respond. He wanted to know how she was doing? Now? After he’d dumped her unceremoniously a decade ago? He sure hadn’t called to check on her then, when she’d spent a good month crying herself to sleep each night and wondering what went wrong. And because of him, and the fabulous way he’d treated her once upon a time, no man after him had measured up. A little late, aren’t you? 

His jaw twitched, mouth tugged down in a frown. I didn’t expect to actually see you there. I figured I’d see Miss Mamie and ask her where you were living now, what you were doing.

Because...?

He shrugged. Curious?

She wasn’t sure what she wanted him to say, but that sure wasn’t it. Maybe because...he still cared. Or because...he’d never gotten over her. Or because...he’d realized that he had been crazy to end what they had together. But curious? Seriously?

Instead of firing off with everything running through her mind, she simmered for a moment and then answered, I didn’t leave Claremont after I graduated from Stockville College. I started working full-time in the bakery instead.  If he’d have come to the town square for the Christmas activities—or for any other reason—over the past ten years, he’d have known that. But from what she’d heard, he merely showed up at his mom’s house for whatever holiday dinner required his presence and then left again. No time to see friends. And no time to see her.

I thought you were going to attend a four-year school after Stockville, he said. Get a business administration degree and then start your own business someplace away from Claremont.

It took everything she had not to cry. That had been her dream, with the addition of the husband, two children and a minivan. She’d planned to accomplish all of the above by the time she was thirty, which would occur in less than six months. And he was the said husband in each and every dream.

But that ambition had been shot to pieces when he never came back, when her grandmother’s Alzheimer’s got the best of her, and when EmmaKay was the only family member up to the challenge of taking care of Miss Mamie and running the bakery. Then, after her precious grandmother passed away, it was up to EmmaKay to make sure Miss Mamie’s beloved bakery didn’t die too. Yeah, well, things change.

Chapter Two

Since she’d taken over running the bakery, EmmaKay had become accustomed to six hours of sleep per night, or less. Last night had landed in the or less category, big time. Each day ended with her preparing the dough for the next morning, a task she typically completed around ten. Then the next day began at four. Gabi, the nineteen year old she’d hired to help, came in for a few hours each morning before her first class at Stockville Community College, then returned in the afternoon after her classes were done. But on Saturdays, thankfully, Gabi worked all day.

Saturdays were Carraway Bakery’s busiest days of the week because of activities and events, and this weekend had even more than usual, which consequently kept EmmaKay up past midnight with preparations. Thank goodness the bakery was closed on Sundays and Mondays. She’d need those days to recuperate. No doubt she also needed more employees, but it took time to train them for the bakery, and she never seemed to have the time or want to take the effort.

Or maybe she simply liked staying so busy. It kept her from thinking about the fact that, other than owning her own business, the primary parts of her achieve-this-by-thirty dream hadn’t come true, something she’d been reminded of quite clearly with the appearance of Ben Dupree in Claremont. She’d be glad when his reunion ended and he headed off to his next adventure.

And speaking of the reunion—she scanned today’s list of ordered bakery items—the committee had ordered several trays of cookies that would be included on her first things to do this morning. She retrieved the large mixing bowls already filled with the cookie dough she made last night from the fridge. The cold metal of the steel bowls sent a frisson from her hands to her feet, and she shivered in spite of the kitchen’s warmth.

The unwanted chill reminded her that she hadn’t started the coffee, usually the first thing she did each morning. Her routine: start the coffee, preheat the ovens and the proofing box then work with the dough. EmmaKay frowned. She’d not only forgotten to start the coffee, but she also hadn’t done anything else.

Ben Dupree, she muttered, knowing the reason she was flustered. Since she left him in the square yesterday, she hadn’t stopped seeing those icy blue eyes, hearing that deep rumbling voice, or—most distracting—remembering what it felt like to be in his arms. Not that she’d been in his arms yesterday, but the memory of being there was so strong that she might as well have been. In truth, she’d dreamed about him all night. His appearance had thrown an unwanted kink into her usual world of organized chaos.

She dropped the bowls on the stainless steel counter then quickly crossed the room to punch the button on the coffeemaker, preheat the ovens and turn on the proofing box for the doughnuts. Then she donned her apron, took a deep, calming breath, and then silently reminded herself that reunions only lasted a day. Returning to the bowls of cookie dough, she removed the plastic coverings and inhaled the sweet scents that were a balm for her soul.

He’ll leave soon, she whispered, just like he left ten years ago.  Then, feeling a little better, she began to methodically spoon the dough onto greased baking sheets and finally sensed the normalcy of the morning falling into place.

The systematic process of dolloping the dough provided a peaceful reprieve from those unsettling thoughts of her first love and her lost dream. Subsequently, the muscles in her neck and shoulders slowly relaxed as she pushed thoughts of Ben away and instead reflected on everything she needed to accomplish today while doing something that didn’t require a lot of brain power, making cookies.

As it was, she had plenty of cookies on today’s agenda. The reunion committee’s three platters—chocolate chip, white chocolate macadamia nut and peanut butter—were to be picked up this morning for their picnic lunch at Hydrangea Park. They’d also ordered three more platters of other assorted desserts to be ready by this afternoon for their evening dinner.

On top of that, Savvy Evans had ordered three dozen banana nut muffins and two trays of chocolate chunk cookies to be delivered to the new children’s home, Willow’s Haven, this morning for their open house. Although EmmaKay usually sent Gabi to make deliveries, she’d take this one herself. Willow’s Haven, though not officially open for business yet, had already earned a special place in EmmaKay’s heart. If everything went as planned, the new children’s home would help her accomplish another part of that before-thirty dream.

Having a baby.