The Baby Bargain. Wendy Warren

father was no help, having moved with no forwarding address before Eden learned to say “Dada.” Two men had broken her heart and she’d spent the better part of her young womanhood acting as if a man was the glue to put it back together. It upset her to think about it, because she so, so knew better!

      Now that she’d finally gotten her mind settled on being a singleton, it was just God’s sense of humor to give her a case of hormones that made her libido jumpier than a frog on fire.

      Pregnancy had increased her cravings for more than Doritos and peanut-butter-cup ice cream. Fortunately, she’d had work to focus on during the months she’d carried Liam. Then she’d given birth, and postpartum concerns trumped sexual interest any day of the week.

      Drat LJ Logan for showing up and revving her engine even while he was busy irritating her. The man had some powerful pheromones, and the truth was he’d been on her mind all evening.

      “I wonder what Junior’s story is,” she murmured, knowing she should have bitten her tongue. It was just the simple truth that one of her failings as a human was her habit of thinking about the very things she shouldn’t.

      Liam dropped his teething ring. Liberty made a beautiful save and handed it back without missing a beat. “Story about what?” she asked.

      “About why he doesn’t want kids.”

      “How do you know that? From what you told me, the two of you didn’t get chatty.”

      “Well, no, but I asked him straight out whether he had any. His answer was absolutely a negative. The boy practically shouted it.”

      “So you stayed after the meeting and talked to him?”

      “I asked him during the meeting.”

      “In front of the board? In front of the people who hired him?”

      “Of course, and don’t look at me like that.” Heat suffused Eden’s face and chest. “I was trying to make a point.”

      “You’re not supposed to make points in front of a man’s boss. Not if you hope to have even a barely civil relationship with him.”

      “I don’t need a civil relationship with LJ Logan.” That was the truth, too. “I need him to do his job well enough to help save the Children’s Connection, and right now I have my doubts.”

      Liberty shook her head. “As long as I’ve known you, you’ve had excellent interpersonal skills.”

      Eden was about to say thank you when her roommate added, “Except when it comes to men. Then you’re a dolt.”

      Eden stopped walking. “I beg your pardon, please? I have never had complaints from males regarding my communication skills.”

      Liberty patted her shoulder. “Don’t get your thong in a knot. You start to sound like Scarlett O’Hara when you’re upset.” She continued walking. “All I’m saying is, remember Hal Sneeden? He called you emotionally withholding.”

      Eden felt a stab of pain but told herself to ignore it. “Oh, that.” She waved a hand and strolled after Liberty. “That doesn’t mean I can’t communicate. I never wanted to get emotionally intimate with Hal Sneeden. And you agreed I could never get serious about him, anyway. Remember? Because if we’d gotten married I’d have been Eden Sneeden.”

      Leaving the park, they headed down the sidewalk toward home. “People would have said, ‘There go Eden Sneeden’s kids.’” Bending forward, she kissed Liam’s head. “I would never do that to you, precious.”

      Liberty’s throaty laugh lightened the atmosphere, but inside Eden struggled not to feel hurt all over again. The breakup with Hal had happened seven years ago, and when she recalled his words they still gnawed at the edges of her confidence, like bugs on a leaf. His exact words had been, “I’ve never felt really close to you.”

      Well, shoot! She gritted her teeth as tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. She didn’t care a fig about Hal Sneeden anymore; she really didn’t. But even though she’d dated much more frequently than Liberty had, it had not escaped her notice that Liberty had close platonic relationships with men, whereas she, Eden, had never had a boyfriend she could also call her friend.

      She chewed on that some as they walked the brief route home, where families—the typical, nuclear variety—dotted their path like land mines.

      Passing a gray bungalow, both she and Liberty raised their hands to wave to the Scotts, a family of five that included three kids, a mother and a father, all of whom could be found outside playing or working together on even the poorest excuse for a nice day. Farther ahead were the Michaelsons—two toddlers, working mom, stay-at-home dad who liked to construct temporary forts out of fallen branches and twigs. Like their neighbors, they were determinedly finding things to do outside, relishing the early spring weather before the next spate of April showers.

      Outwardly, Eden kept smiling. Secretly she couldn’t wait to get home, where she could hole up inside the rest of the night and ignore all the happy three-, four- and fivesomes.

      Portland was truly a family town. Several years back it had been touted as one of the ten best cities in the country in which to raise children. That made it a great place to pursue her work as a childbirth coach. A terrific place to have and raise Liam. It was less terrific when she didn’t want to be reminded that Liam might someday think she’d shortchanged him by bringing him into the world without a daddy.

      And sometimes when she lay in bed—not at night, but in the morning—and listened to the twitter of birds and the sound of her son’s breathing, she wished for someone to turn to, to whisper with, to plan the day.

      She glanced down as Liam’s head bobbed against her chest. The motion of walking lulled him into his evening snooze. Gently, she stroked the hair around his ears. You’re the only guy for me from now on, little man. Still, it would be nice to be part of a larger community.

      “I read about a woman in Florida who started a cooperative housing development,” she said contemplatively to Liberty. “The intention is to bring foster kids together with people who want to adopt or at least mentor children. The housing is available to people of all ages. You can even eat together in a common dining hall.”

      Liberty eyed her doubtfully. “It sounds like a dorm.”

      Eden laughed. “No, really, co-op communities sound like nice places. Most have common areas for the kids to play together. Some even do cooperative babysitting and there’s a deliberate effort to make the communities multigenerational, which is great for the kids.” She ran her fingers over Liam’s soft dark curls, so different from her wavy blond hair. “It would be nice to think he’s with people who feel like…”

      “Like family without the need for therapeutic intervention?”

      This time Eden’s laughter rang out down the street. “You are such a cynic.”

      “Mmm.”

      They reached their block of smaller Portland style bungalows, and Liberty stepped up her pace. “I’ve got major studying to do. I’m going to head to First Cup for something very tall, very strong and very iced. You want?”

      “Nope.” Eden hadn’t done caffeine since the stick turned pink, and she didn’t particularly need more calories tonight. She nodded to Liam. “If the master of the house sleeps a little longer, I just might look up the co-op projects in Portland.”

      “Have at it. Just don’t expect me to move with you. I like my privacy.”

      Both women stopped talking when they reached their house. Parked in front was a sleek black Cadillac coupe. An impatient-looking man leaned indolently against the dry-rot-damaged porch rail Eden kept promising herself she would fix. Dark glasses hid his eyes.

      “Speaking of tall and strong,” Liberty murmured.

      Eden shook her head. What was he doing here? She stared at LJ Logan, only assuming he stared back from behind