by T. S. Joyce
Gia was no Gray Back.
Never would be.
****
Creed threw back another shot of cheap whiskey and pressed the tiny glass to his forehead to feel the coolness against his growing headache. At least Sammy’s Bar was quiet, thank God. It was more than he could hope for in the trailer park.
One drunken night had ruined three lives—his, Gia’s, and the baby’s.
If she knew how broken he really was, she wouldn’t have come back here asking for help. She would’ve hidden the baby away and never let him know the child existed. If she knew how damaged he was, she would’ve never slept with him in the first place.
Fuck, but he’d been careful! A fresh wave of anger blasted through him. He always used a condom—always. And then this happened? What was the fucking point of all the safe sex if he knocked a woman up, anyway? No, not just any woman. Gia. He felt nauseous. She was too good for him, too good for this place, and too good to be doing this alone. He was an anchor tied around her waist, sinking her beneath her potential.
“Bar’s closing in an hour,” Kong’s rich baritone sounded behind him. The giant gorilla shifter grabbed Creed’s shoulders and squeezed until his bones cracked before he sat down in the stool beside him. “Think it’s time to sober up?”
“I’d rather not.” Ever again. Creed gestured to the bartender for another round.
“I’ll have the same,” Kong told the blonde with the painted red lips as she poured Creed another shot of the burning liquor. “You want to talk about it?”
Creed waited until the bartender was finished and had sauntered down the bar to chat with a trio of good ol’ boys who sounded three sheets to the wind with their rampant slurring.
With a miserable sigh, Creed admitted, “I’m going to be a dad.”
Kong’s dark eyes went round, and a slow smile spread across his face. He gripped Creed’s shoulder and shook him slowly. “Congratulations, man! Fuck yeah, I’ll toast to that.” He ignored Creed’s glare and tinked his shot glass against his, then tilted his head back and slammed the drink. “I can tell by the way you’re scowling that you think your life is over.” Kong twisted the glass in his hands on the bar top. “Did you know in my culture, babies are revered, as well as the women who bear those children? It is a great honor if a woman chooses you and her spirit accepts your seed. A child is never a bad thing, Creed. A child is a gift.”
“A gift given to the wrong man. Kong, my mother is a psychopath, I have no father, and I couldn’t manage to please a single foster parent into keeping me. I aged out of the system with no healthy parental relationship to draw experience from. I’m the least qualified person I can name to father a child.”
“And how’d that feel?”
“How’d what feel?” Creed muttered.
“Not having a parent stick around for you?”
Oh, he got where Kong was going with this. “Fuck off.”
“You gonna do to that kid what was done to you?” Kong’s eye ticked. “I don’t think so. Because the Creed I know would make a great father. The Creed I know put together a crew of grizzly shifters no one would touch and is making it work.”
Creed snorted. If Kong spent one whole day with the Gray Backs, he’d know that was bullshit.
“No, it’s true. I know it can’t be easy, but you haven’t put a single bear down yet. You’ve been patient and kept your crew together when they should’ve never worked. And you’ve done that for years. That’s not just a strong bear who can do that, Creed. That’s a strong man. Don’t tell me you’d be shite at fatherhood. You’ve gathered the misfits and given them a home. Your kid would be lucky to call you dad.” Kong snatched the shot from in front of Creed and tossed it back. With a hiss for the burn, he turned to Creed once again. “You know what your woman is doing right now? She’s growing a child. Your child, and it’s fuckin’ hard work, and it’s emotional, and she’s struggling and sick feeling. You’re stuck on you being scared to be a parent, but guess what? This is terrifying for her. That baby in her stomach? He or she is moving around, keeping its momma up at nights, pressing against her bladder, her ribs, the nerves in her back. That baby has a heartbeat. Bum-bum, bum-bum. Like yours. That baby has your blood running through its veins—the blood of a good alpha. That kid’s fuckin’ lucky to have you. Now get your head out of your ass and go take care of your woman, or she’ll leave you, and you won’t have the chance to know your kid. And then your life, and all you do, would mean nothing.” Kong stood and tossed a wad of cash onto the counter. “Oh, and Creed? Congratulations to you and your crew. Because like it or not, that kid—your kid—is a little Gray Back.” Kong dipped his head once and strode for a set of pool tables in the back where his crew of Lowlanders were playing eight ball.
“Fuck,” Creed said on a breath.
Kong was right.
Chapter Four
It was late as balls, but this couldn’t wait. Creed paced in front of Matt and Willa’s dark trailer. Gia’s smell lingered around here most, and he’d bet his work boots she was sleeping in their tiny second bedroom on a lumpy futon.
He’d had to wait to sober up to drive the two hours back to the trailer park from Saratoga, and now it was just a few hours until he had to be at work on the landing.
He couldn’t sleep tonight if he didn’t apologize for being an insensitive prick, though. Gia would probably never forgive his reaction but damn it all, he had to try.
He knocked softly on the side entrance door. Matt would hear it. Willa, too, with her new enhanced shifter hearing.
A minute later, Willa was at the door, bright red hair ruffled, sleepy eyes narrowed to slits, and an angry grimace twisting her lips. “No.”
She moved to shut the door, but Creed jammed his foot in front of it. “I have to see her. I messed up.”
“There’s the understatement of the century.”
“Willa, I have to talk to her. Don’t make me lay down an order.”
Willa threw open the door and gestured grandly. “Come on in then, alpha. And good luck waking Gia up. She’s a monster in the mornings. And that’s just what I learned from slumber parties growing up. Pregnant lady Gia will probably eat you alive and pick her teeth with your bones.” She patted his shoulder and muttered, “Good luck,” then sauntered off in her tiny tank top and pair of pink polka-dotted panties, no pajama pants.
Creed scrubbed his hands over his face and let off a little growl. Today had sucked.
But when he opened the door to Gia’s room and saw her sleeping soundly on the futon, all tucked up in a pile of mismatched comforters, he felt even worse. Kong had said pregnancy was uncomfortable, and Creed was about to wake her up just to satisfy his own guilt. Dick move.
He kicked out of his dusty work boots and slid in under the blankets behind her. She let off a sexy, sleepy moan and snuggled back against his chest. Yep, there it was—hello, boner.
Gritting his teeth, he eased his knees up until he was curled around her warm body, and carefully, he palmed her tight belly. He couldn’t feel the baby move. Hell, maybe it was too early in the process. He didn’t know anything about baby-growing. But when he closed his eyes, he could hear Gia’s slow, steady heartbeat, and then a faster, smaller one. Bum-bum, bum-bum, just like Kong had said.
Creed sighed and rubbed the swell of her stomach gently. There was no doubt in his mind he would suck at this, but that little heartbeat had sealed his fate. This child was his. Not just biologically, but his to protect.
As long as there was breath in his body, Creed was going to make sure his little make-shift family was taken care of.
****
Gia arched her back and stretched. Her hips were sore from the futon, but it was surprisingly warm in Willa’s trailer. When she lifted the covers to get out of bed, she saw the giant hand on her stomach and shrieked.
Creed hunched in on himself and yelled out, “What? What happened?” He was out of the bed in a flash, balanced on the balls of his feet, planted be
tween her and the door with his hand stretched back toward her, close enough for her to swat away if she wanted.
Peanut Butter attacked. Okay, really, Peanut Butter barked once and stared at Creed while his little doggy tongue hung out the side of his mouth. Terrible guard dog.
Creed eased between her and the vicious fluffy-haired Cujo. “What the hell is that?”
Fury blasted through her. Oh, now he was protective? Madness seizing her, she grabbed his hand and bit down as hard as she could.
“Ow!” he yelled, yanking his hand out of her mouth.
Peanut Butter yipped again.
It had hurt when Creed yanked away from her, so she checked to see if her teeth were still in her mouth. “You hurt me!”
Creed stood tall, and now his eyes were glowing silver. “Well, I’m sorry you hurt your teeth while you were biting me. I didn’t hurt you, though. You hurt you.”
“I’m not talking about my teeth, Creed! You freaked out and left me here yesterday. And why are you sleeping in my bed, snuggling with me without my permission? You don’t get to touch my belly until I say you can. You haven’t earned it yet.”
Creed ran his hands through his dark hair. His eyes, as black as onyx, pooled with remorse. He wasn’t wearing a shirt or shoes—just low-slung jeans. Creed was cut, his smooth skin delving over defined muscles. His six-pack flexed with every breath, and a light dusting of hair trailed from his belly button into his jeans, dragging her helpless gaze along with it. Holy shit, he’d somehow gotten hotter since she’d seen him last. Her eyes stopped on the huge bulge between his legs. “Do you have a boner?”
Creed looked down and flung his hands out of his hair. “Yes, Gia. That is a boner. I have them when I wake up in the morning.” His eyes had gone wide and irritated.
Oh. Morning wood, then. Disappointment shredded her insides, but she kept her face perfectly free of emotion. At the rate she was putting on the pregnancy pounds, she’d probably never give Creed a boner again.
“How long did you sleep beside me?”
“I don’t know. I got in at four or so. Shit, what time is it?” He dug around a small pile of clothes and yanked his cell phone out of it. “Mmm,” he growled, then flapped the wrinkles from his shirt. “I have to go.”
“Seriously?” Gia crossed her arms and glared.
“Yes, but we need to talk, and I don’t want to be away from you right now, so you’re coming, too.” Creed jogged past her to the living room and threw the door open. After he’d given two sharp whistles, he came back in, pulling a white T-shirt over his head.
Gia offered him a nonplussed look. “Is that you demanding I come, or asking?”
“Gia, please, woman. I want a chance at making this right with you.”
“And you can’t take a day off work? This is all a little chaotic.”
“I know, I know.” Creed sighed and held his hands out in a calming gesture. “I’m in charge up on the landing, and I can’t just leave my crew without a manager up there right now. Things are complicated with them. Can you be ready in five minutes? I’m going to go pack lunches for both of us.” He stared into space, looking slightly panicked. “Do you have those…shit, what are they called? Where you want certain foods.”
“Cravings?”
“Yes,” he said, snapping and pointing as if she’d won some big contest. “That’s the word. Do you have cravings? Or anything you can’t eat? For the baby? Anything that will hurt the baby. My baby. Our baby. Jesus.” Creed inhaled deeply and hooked his hands on his hips, lips pursed. “What would you like for lunch?” he asked in a calmer tone.
“A bacon and egg sandwich would be nice. I can’t have lunch meat.”
“Yes. I can do that.” The panic was back in his eyes.
“Why are you acting weird?” she asked, biting back an amused smile.
“Because you make me nervous.” He winced. “Really nervous. I can’t stop talking. I’m going to go.” In his attempt to escape, he stumbled over a comforter and caught himself much more gracefully than she could’ve ever managed. He huffed a breath and leveled her with those dark, uncertain eyes. “Bacon and egg sandwich.”
Then he turned and strode out of the trailer, leaving Gia staring after him. What the heck had just happened? She padded across the cold floorboards to the window, pulled the green curtain aside, and watched Creed jog away, shaking his head.
Her stomach fluttered, and she rested her hand over it. Butterflies. She hadn’t had butterflies in a long time. A smile stretched her lips as Creed disappeared around the corner of the trailer. She let the curtain fall back over the window. He wanted her up on the landing with him today. And he’d snuggled behind her for the past couple of hours, his hand on her stomach. Even if she hadn’t invited him to touch her so intimately, it pulled at her heartstrings that he’d taken it upon himself to bond with their baby while she was sleeping.
She brushed her teeth and readied for the day in a rush. Her long hair had dried wavy overnight, so she put it up in a high ponytail and took a curling iron to it. Then she slathered on more make-up than she’d felt confident enough to wear in a while and grabbed her heavy jacket in case it was colder up in the mountains than it was here in the valley. She checked herself in the mirror, turning to the side. Usually, she hid her pregnancy, but what was the point of that here? Everyone was going to find out anyway, and besides, she was proud of the little bump she was growing. On second thought, she peeled off her baggy sweater, dug around in her suitcase, and instead opted for a navy, skintight thermal sweater with little white flowers on it.
Feeling prettier than she had in months, she jogged out of the room just as Willa and Matt waved from the kitchen. Willa had an apple hanging out of her mouth, and Matt was cooking something delicious-smelling over the stove.
Gia skidded to a halt when she saw Matt’s bare back. It was crisscrossed with hundreds of deep scars that ranged from pink to silver. She hadn’t seen them before when they’d all gone swimming at Bear Trap Falls, but perhaps that was because her eyes had been glued to Creed who’d been sitting on the bank, refusing to swim with the rest of them.
“What happened to you?” she asked before she could stop herself.
Matt slid her a glance over his shoulder and turned back to the stove. “I made you breakfast to go. I heard Creed ask you to come to the landing, but it’ll be a while before lunch. Willa read on the Internet that pregnant women barf if they don’t eat enough.”
Gia dragged her gaze away from Matt’s scars to Willa, who was crunching away on a bite of her apple.
“Matt cut himself shaving,” Willa said through a grin.
Gia snorted, then slapped her hands over her mouth. “Oh, God, I’m sorry. It’s not funny at all.”
Matt lifted his hand and high-fived Willa. “Good one, Nerd.”
Gia pursed her lips to stop the laughter that bubbled up her throat. This was Willa’s fault for always being so damned inappropriate in serious moments.
“All right, breakfast is on. Fill up your tortilla and take it to go, or Creed will shit a brick. We’re behind on timber numbers.”
“Right. Because you’re lumberjacks.” Gia made a couple of breakfast burritos and wrapped them in the foil Willa had helpfully ripped off the roll for her.
“I’m off to play with my worms,” Willa said cheerfully. “Come on Peanut Butter. Have fun at the landing today. Don’t get squished under a lumber avalanche.”
“Worms?” Gia asked.
“My mate has the biggest worm farm in this part of the country,” Matt said. It was really strange hearing a big old scarred-up grizzly shifter infuse such pride into that odd combination of words.
Willa had a giant worm farm. Why was Gia not surprised? “Let me guess. You’ve named it Willa’s Worms?”
Willa tapped her nose and pointed at Gia with a wink as she walked out the front door, Peanut Butter following behind and looking like a legless, hairy mop.
“Wait, were you serious about me get
ting squished?” Gia called.
Willa poked her head back in through the door. “Do me a favor?”
“Sure,” Gia said, still concerned about the whole lumber avalanche remark.
“Give Easton a wide berth.”
“Easton, the one who dragged his trailer off in the woods with his bare hands?”
Matt grabbed his heavy, mud-splattered tan jacket off a coat rack, breakfast burritos in his other hand. “Don’t worry. Creed will probably keep you safe.”
Probably keep her safe? She swallowed down a wave of nausea and followed Matt out the door.
What the hell had she gotten herself into?
Chapter Five
By the time Gia made her way to the front of the trailer park, Creed was lifting a large red cooler into the back of his pickup. The truck shone a dark silver in the early morning light and matched the charcoal-colored thermal sweater Creed was wearing over his holey work jeans. The shirt had gone threadbare in places and clung to his brawny physique. The sloping curves of his muscles made her wish she’d been more sober the night they’d been together so she could remember what his body felt like under her hands.
Heat flushed her cheeks at the dirty thought.
He shut his tailgate and turned, and when he did, he gave her a genuine smile that just about devastated her knees’ ability to hold her upright. Straight white teeth and two dimples she could barely make out because of the day-old scruff on his jaw. No time to shave this morning apparently, and thank God for tiny blessings because Gia wanted to rub her face down the side of his like a territorial cat. Meow, mine, mine, mine.
Shit, no. He wasn’t hers. He was just her baby daddy. Whom she had a crush on.
Now her cheeks were on fire.
The smile dipped from his face and his dark, animated brows drew down. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing!” God, that was loud. Clearing her throat, she smiled shakily. “Nothing. I’m good.”