“It’s late and the motel’s at the other end of town,” I said stiffly. “You can sleep here for tonight, then go in the morning.” I’d shut off the upstairs vents to save on the AC bill—old habits die hard—but figured Kade could just open a window. Besides, it wasn’t that hot up there now that the nights were cool.
Kade didn’t say anything, the tension between us thick, so I just said, “C’mon.” Turning, I headed up the narrow staircase, the old wooden steps creaking beneath my feet. I heard pretty quickly when he started following me.
I led Kade to the smaller of the two bedrooms, grateful that I’d shut the door on the other one earlier in the day. There was a twin bed in this one that would work for the night.
“Here you go,” I said. “Bathroom’s across the hall. Night.” I turned to leave, but he caught my arm. Of course he did. Should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy.
“Where do you sleep?” he asked.
“My room’s downstairs,” I replied.
“Then I’ll sleep on the couch.”
I stared at him in confusion but was too tired to argue. “Whatever,” I said, pulling away and retreating back down the stairs. He followed me again, which was starting to make me feel like a pied piper, as I grabbed sheets and a blanket from the linen closet. I set them on a chair in the living room, then picked up a sheet to begin making up the couch.
“I’ll do it,” Kade said roughly, taking the sheet from me. “Go to bed. You look like you’re about to drop.”
“Gee, thanks,” I retorted, but there wasn’t much heat behind it. I was just too tired.
I showered because I couldn’t climb into bed with nine hours of french fries and beer aroma wafting from me, but it was a quick one. I resisted the urge to peek into the living room to see how Kade was settling in before I climbed into bed, though it was tough.
Only when I was at last in my T-shirt and curled under the blankets on my bed did I allow myself the pleasure and pain of thinking about Kade and how close he was, and of how I’d thought I’d never see him again—and how, after tomorrow, I likely never would.
I woke earlier than I’d intended, then found I couldn’t go back to sleep. My stomach was still queasy in the mornings, which made my trip to the bathroom more urgent now than before I’d gotten pregnant. Afterward, I brushed my teeth and washed my face. I brushed my hair until it gleamed, then pulled it up into a high ponytail. I’d planned on doing more painting today, so I dressed in an old, faded pair of cutoffs and an even older T-shirt. I abruptly realized that the shorts were too tight to fasten, right where the waistband went beneath my navel.
I lifted my shirt and turned sideways, studying my reflection. Yes, there was a small but definite bump that I hadn’t noticed before.
I stood there too long, a little awestruck, a lot afraid. Each day that passed seemed to increasingly bring home the reality that I was having a baby. It felt strange to be both excited and terrified. So far this hadn’t been at all what I’d pictured when I was younger and imagined having a child. I’d thought I’d be married, of course, and that my husband would be just as thrilled as I was. We’d paint the baby’s room together, argue over names, shop for tiny little baby clothes in tiny little sizes . . .
And just like that, I was a sobbing mess.
Dammit! The hormone changes that now seemed to rule my emotions with an iron fist showed no mercy, and I was often left reeling between being overjoyed one moment and sobbing in self-pitying misery the next.
The crying jag lasted several minutes before I could pull myself together and wash my face again. My eyes were puffy, my cheeks red and blotchy, and my shorts didn’t fit.
My eyes swam with tears again. I took a deep breath, swallowing them down. One emotional breakdown was enough before I had my coffee. Thank God the morning sickness didn’t include coffee in the list of things that suddenly made me ill.
When I entered the kitchen, wearing a pair of knit shorts with a stretchy waistband, I saw that Kade was already up as well.
And that’s as far as my thought process got.
He’d used my shower, apparently, but as usual, had dressed in just jeans. He stood at the kitchen counter with his back to me, pouring a cup of coffee. His hair was still damp and curled slightly at the ends. The muscles in his back flexed and rippled as he moved, the scars less visible in the soft glow of morning light filtering through the windows.
It seemed pregnancy also had an effect on my libido, because I had to curl my hands into fists, my nails digging into my palms, to keep from licking Kade like an ice-cream cone.
He turned around and I was treated to the lovely view of Kade’s chest. The long scar that ran diagonally across his chest was overshadowed by two new scars, the ones from the bullets that had nearly killed him.
My hormones fled at the reminder and a wave of sadness combined with thankfulness washed over me. Even if we weren’t together, I was so grateful Kade was alive.
Kade took a sip of his coffee as he watched me. He didn’t seem startled that I was there and I thought he must have heard me retching in the bathroom. It was kind of hard to miss.
“Feel better?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” I said automatically.
Just then, the doorbell rang, which was odd. It wasn’t like I got company, other than when Mrs. Johnson had brought over the casserole.
The reaction in Kade was immediate. He had set down the coffee and had his gun in his hand before I’d even turned to start toward the door.
“I’ll get it,” he said, wrapping a hand around my arm.
I rolled my eyes. “It’s not like a killer is going to ring the doorbell before he shoots me,” I said.
“Yes, that’s exactly what he’d do,” Kade shot back. “For precisely that reason. You’re not expecting it.”
I swallowed. Okay, he had a point, and really, he would know. While I hadn’t cared too much last night about whatever trouble had brought Kade to my door, this morning I was acutely aware that I wasn’t just protecting myself but also the little bump that made my shorts too tight.
I watched as Kade moved silently to the door, gun held at the ready, then he peered ever so slightly through the window. The tension in his body eased and I relaxed, releasing the breath I’d been holding.
Kade turned, an eyebrow raised sardonically as he mockingly called, “Honey! It’s for you.”
Frowning, I headed for the door, just as Kade opened it on a very surprised Matt.
“It’s the quarterback,” Kade said with a sneer. “And I’m sure he’s not here to see me.” He moved out of the way as I came to the door.
“Matt,” I greeted him, feeling my face get hot at what I was sure he had assumed, especially with Kade only half dressed. “I . . . I wasn’t expecting anyone.”
Matt’s jaw was locked tight and his gaze was still on Kade, who I could feel behind me. He’d retreated, but not far, and I could imagine the look he was giving Matt.
“After last night, I was worried about you,” Matt said stiffly. “Thought I’d drop by this morning, make sure you were okay.”
“That’s so sweet,” I said, forcing a smile. “I appreciate you checking on me, but I’m fine.” My embarrassment was making a flush crawl up my neck. “Was there anything else?” I asked, trying to be polite despite wanting the floor to open and swallow me whole.
“I guess not,” Matt said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Just . . . be careful.” Matt’s gaze stared daggers at Kade behind me and I noticed his eyes dropping to the scars decorating Kade’s chest. His Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed and I guessed he was rethinking the wisdom of getting into a confrontation with Kade.
“I will,” I said. “Thanks again.”