“I didn't come here for your pity. I didn't come here for your hand in marriage. I came here to tell you that we are having a baby. Take it or leave it. But don't give me some false bit of bravado. Don't pretend you want me just because you knocked me up. This isn’t the 1950s, Tristan."
Shoulders squared, he took a harsh breath. “I never said it was. But the way I was raised, at least, the way I thought my dad would want me to handle something like this, is to do right by you."
“Do right means something completely different now. You can be in this child's life if you want. I'm not gonna stop you. But I'm also not going to force you into something like a marriage."
"Can I… Would you mind if I came inside? I brought you some dinner." The gentleness of his question stirred something inside me. It reminded me of our night together. The first time was hard and rough. The second time was reverent and soft and tender and special.
"I guess so." I backed away from the door, trying hard not to let him see how incredibly hungry I was. From behind his back he pulled out a basket, lovingly packed, likely by Mama. "What's for dinner?"
"Fried chicken, baked beans, fresh cornbread." He grinned.
That sounded amazing, but there was not a single green thing to be found on that plate. "So, what do you suggest we do about this baby?"
I sat down at the table as he placed the basket in the center. He let out a long breath, shoulders slumping. "Well, I suppose we’ll love him or her as best we can. Isn't that all any baby needs?"
I laughed. "That and diapers, food, shelter, clothing, and don't forget the college education in eighteen years."
He blanched. "I know all that. But the first and most important thing is love. Every kid needs their parents to love them. I know I can do that."
Something in me cracked, just a little. He wanted to do this. He wanted to be a father. That was surprising. "I don't live near here. How are we going to deal with that?"
"I suppose… We can take turns visiting. You come see me, and then I go see you. We’ll figure it out."
"I suppose so. I'm not marrying you. I've already been married. I don't want to do it again."
His brow furrowed as he placed a warm plate in front of me and removed the foil covering. Then he took the matching plate for himself and stared down at the food in front of him rather than at me.
We ate in silence, the food delicious and exactly what I needed. Until, just as he was serving up a brownie for dessert, he stared me straight in the eye and said, “What happened with your marriage?"
"I don’t want to talk about that. That part of my life is over, no use looking back at it now. I'm ready to move on.” I pushed my last few baked beans around on my plate. “You were supposed to be the man who helped me do that, a one night, no strings attached roll in the hay with the sexiest cowboy I'd ever met. Now, looks like we’re stuck together."
He smirked. "Being stuck with you is not punishment. Not by a longshot."
That made my belly flip. I remembered him being charming, but this was ridiculous.
The brownie was sinful. I practically moaned the moment the rich, warm chocolate hit my tongue. I think Tristan noticed because he licked his lips, and his gaze sparked with fire. There was no way to deny that we had something between us. I just didn't think that something would ever grow into substance, especially after reading all about his exploits online. He had a new girl every night, breaking hearts all over town. Even some of the guests claimed to have had a tryst with him. I'd been with a man who decided fidelity wasn't for him. I never wanted one like that again. The handsome, charming man who could woo the panties off of just about any woman if he wanted. Quinn was that man. Now, Tristan is the same. Exactly my type.
Tristan stood, packing up the basket and grabbing his hat off the rack before settling it atop his head. "Well, I'm real glad you're all right. I think we need to take this week to get to know each other. You have a problem with that?"
I didn't. He was right. We were going to have a child. We had to know as much as possible about each other if we can make this work. "So, what does that mean exactly?"
He smiled. That heart-stopping, sexy, boyish smile of his. And I melted. "It means I'll be your personal ranch hand for the entirety of your visit. See you tomorrow morning, darlin’.”
He opened the door and left, the scent of him still filling the room. Smoky, woodsy, distinctively Tristan. It was a smell I been trying to forget since our night together. I sighed and laid out across the bed. One hand covering my belly, the other resting on my heart, which was fluttering something fierce. Tristan Ryker didn't understand how much he really affected me.
I might've acted like I hated him, like I wanted nothing to do with him, but the truth was, I wanted as much of him as he would give me. Even if I knew it would all go down in flames.
Tristan
"So. You got something you want to tell me?" Clint stood outside the stable where I was just finishing up putting away Ranger for the night. My older brother could always read me like a damn book. I told Mama we needed to keep it secret for a while. Just until we were sure we had an answer for how things are going to go. But I don't know why I expected my siblings not to talk to each other. Buck had obviously spilled the beans.
"We're trying to feel things out and see how they go."
"It seems to me like you felt things out plenty. By the looks of her, that’s exactly why you’re in this situation in the first place.”
"I know what you're thinking. Why was I not careful? I was. Every time, we used protection. We weren’t supposed to see each other again. It was a no strings attached arrangement," I muttered.
Ranger had enough of me talking. Expecting me to give up the sugar cube in my pocket, he head-butted me hard. I patted him on his back, then fished out the treat, and let them have it.
"That's a pretty big string."
"Yep. I don't know how this is gonna work. She lives six hours away. But, Clint, God, I haven't been with another woman since her. I haven't been able to bring myself to. I think, if things been different, she and I would've been something."
He cocked his head and gave me a quizzical look. "I don't understand why you think it can't be something now. She's here, pregnant with your kid. You two are about as linked as people can get."
"She doesn't want to be an…obligation. She's smart, Clint. Real smart. She's a nurse. But she's been hurt real bad. I understand why she’s skittish."
"And how do we handle a skittish filly?”
I snorted. "You do not want her to hear you comparing her to a horse."
He shrugged. "Then don't tell her I said that. But my question still stands. If we let a skittish horse get away, we go back and get her. Make her see that we're not gonna hurt her. We show her being with us is the best thing for her."
"I don't know how to show her."
A little chuckle rumbled from deep in the center of his chest. "Little brother, none of us knew what to do until we had to do it."