by Tessa Layne
She met his eyes with a half-defiant, half-scared look. “You. You’re Lulah’s father.”
CHAPTER 8
If someone had told Gunnar that the Pope was a trannie from Ohio who believed he was the Virgin Mary, and that Jesus lived on Mars, he’d have been less stunned than he was at that very moment. Shocked didn’t even begin to cover what was happening in his body. His hands grew cold, his lips went numb, and the ringing in his ears became so loud he couldn’t think. “Excuse me?” His insides felt like they’d been turned outside his body and hung out to dry. He stumbled back into the exam table. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
He was a father??!?
Part of him wanted to punch something. He’d always been the one who’d imagined having children, passing on the family legacy to his sons and daughters, because of course, he was going to have a big family. Yet he’d been the one sidelined, fated forever to be Uncle Gunnar. Never Daddy.
And now Suzannah was standing here telling him he was a father? The sense of loss nearly cleaved him in two. He’d missed out on all the milestones he’d imagined sharing with her when they discussed babies in Vegas. A host of pictures flew through his mind – Suzannah, belly swollen with his child. Laboring and delivering his child. Without him. Nursing and caring for his child. Rolling over, crawling, first words, first steps, everything. A weight pressed down on his chest, making it hard to breathe. His mother, God, his mother. She’d been so excited when his niece Melody June had been born. So hopeful, so filled with joy. The knowledge that she’d missed out on every first with a first grandchild would kill her. How could Suzannah do that to him? Keep him in the dark this way? Deny him what they’d talked about, dreamed about when they’d been together? So many moments, gone forever.
A bigger part of him wanted to laugh, to spin her around in his arms and carry her, carry them home. He’d build a princess palace for his little girl, show them he was the knight in shining armor they’d been missing this whole time. He’d push his little girl on his childhood swing that still hung from the enormous oak tree in the front yard. He’d teach her to ride, and give her a pony. Or ten. The dream he’d held closest to his heart, had finally come true. “You mean we’ve been everything we’ve both wanted this whole time? That we’re a family?” He shouldn’t feel this excited, but that adorable little girl with the Batman mask and the white blonde waves was his. “I want to meet Lulah. It’s short for Talulah, right?” Gunnar started through a mental checklist. “My bunkhouse is too small for us, but it would only take a few months for me to put on addition. In the meantime, I could commute. Stay with you, and help with Lulah.”
Suzannah’s face froze, a picture of surprise and shock. Then her forehead creased. “I– I’m not sure that’s a good idea right now.”
“What do you mean, it’s not a good idea? We’re a family, and I want to meet my daughter.”
“Of course you do, but I think we need to discuss some things before–”
A tendril of fear snaked through his belly. “Don’t keep me from her, Suzannah. Not after all this time. Not after I bared my soul–”
“Gunnar. Stop.” She spoke sharply, holding out her hands. “Slow. Down.”
His heart pounded in his ears. “What? What’s wrong?”
She let out a surprised laugh, shaking her head, then grew serious. “Before I let you see Lulah, we need to talk.”
“What do you mean, let me?” That got his hackles up. “She has a right to know her father.”
Suzannah straightened. “She absolutely does. And the fact of the matter is that it’s been four-and-a-half years, Gunnar. And my number one job is to keep Lulah safe. And I don’t know you.”
“What do you mean?” His voice rose. “You know me better than anyone.”
“Do I? Do I really?”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Do you think I’m some kind of a creeper?” The thought of anyone hurting his daughter churned his gut. If anyone laid a finger on her… God help them.
She lifted a shoulder. “I wouldn’t be a good parent if I didn’t vet you.”
That offended the shit out of him. “You’ve got to be kidding, right? I’m her goddamn father, ’Zannah.”
“And let’s be honest, Gunn.” Her voice steeled. “We knew each other a total of four days. Four Days. How well can you know a person in four days? You could be an abuser, for all I know.”
Or an axe murderer. Axel’s voice of reason sounded in his head. Still, the thought she lumped him in with scum of the earth, stung. “But I’m not.”
Her face softened. “So we need to not jump into things like before.”
It was too much, all of it – the joy, the hurt. He couldn’t think in here. The room felt too hot, too small. He needed fresh air and space. He needed someplace to wrap his head around the atomic bomb that had just detonated above him. “I’ve got to go. I’m sorry.”
He pushed off the exam table and brushed past her, fumbling with the door and bursting into the hall. In the back of his head, he registered her voice calling after him. But he just… couldn’t. Not right now. He stumbled out into the late afternoon sun, and started walking. He’d walk all the way home if necessary.
His feet ached, and the sun was setting by the time he reached his bunkhouse. His arm throbbed, but he didn’t care. He went straight to his laptop and googled toddler car seats. Holy shit. Pages and pages of ads and articles came up. He gulped, clicking on a safety report first. He grimaced at the picture that loaded, of a car seat on the side of a road next to a mangled car. Icy fingers grabbed at his heart. What if something happened to his baby girl? He drove an old truck. Was it even safe? For the next three hours, Gunnar slid down a rabbit hole of heart-stopping fear. Is this what it meant to be a parent? That you went through the world scared shitless and looking for danger at every turn? He glanced around his modest bunkhouse. The outlets were exposed. The carpet was old, and probably not fire-resistant. Hell, was any carpet fire-resistant? Maybe he should switch it out for hardwood. Or tile. Definitely tile. Not flammable. But what if she fell and hit her head? His stomach churned sickeningly at the thought of Lulah, sprawled on the floor, in a pool of blood, Batman mask askew.
He jumped up from the chair. He had to get out of here. Get some fresh air and get a goddamned grip. In three steps he was out the door and heading through the trees to the other side of the barnyard, out to the hills. Without thinking about his direction, his feet naturally carried him north, along a path he’d traversed since he’d been not much older than Lulah. Guided by nothing but the moon and memory, he trudged toward his destination, a lone oak that stood just below the tallest hill on their property. For as long as he could remember, it had been a gathering place of sorts. They’d buried his Uncle Warren’s ashes on the east side of the tree, so that for eternity he’d be greeted by the first rays of sun.
His heart sank as he approached and realized he wasn’t alone. But who was it? The figure stepped out from behind the tree. Of course, his cousin Maddie. “Hey, Mads,” he called softly, so as not to startle her. “You okay?”
She hiccupped. That answered his question. She’d obviously been crying. He hurried the last steps to the tree, rounding it to give her a one-armed embrace. “I know. I miss the old bastard too.”
She laugh-cried, burrowing into him. “Sometimes it hurts so much. And tonight, Henry gave me this look that was pure Dad.”
“Blake know you’re here?” Blake was her husband, and knowing him, he’d be worried to death if she’d just disappeared.
She nodded. “He suggested I walk up here.”
“You married a good man, Maddie Jane.” He and Axel had had their doubts about Blake at first, thanks to a decades-old disagreement between the two families, but he’d never seen Maddie happier. Or his sister, Hope, who’d married Blake’s younger brother, Ben. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
Maddie rubbed her eyes, nodding. “Of course. Do you want to sit? I’m not quite ready to leave yet
.”
Gunnar threw himself down on the ground, just outside of the edge of the tree. He always preferred being able to see the stars.
“What happened to your arm?”
“A little disagreement with some barbed wire. Took a few stitches.”
“From the doctor?” The implication in her voice was hard to miss.
“Nope. Did it myself with whiskey and dental floss,” he deadpanned.
Maddie socked him in the shoulder, laughing. “You are so full of shit.” A pause. “Hope said you had a fling with her a few years back and you still have the hots for her.”
“That so?” He loved how the rumor mill worked. “How’d she hear that?”
“It depends on who you talk to. Dottie and Gloria McPherson said you had a knock-down-drag-out at the diner, but they could see the sparks flying. Parker told Cassie who told Hope that you’d been all over each other when you took your dude’s trip to the NFR’s a few years back.”
Relief melted into his bones. At least Parker hadn’t disclosed the worst of it. “Yeah… you could say that.”
Maddie turned, eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute.” Oh shit. Maddie’s mind was like a steel trap. Scratch that. She was a freaking super-genius. Nothing got past her. “Isn’t her daughter almost four?”
Thank fuck it was dark, because he was sure his face was on fire. He nodded, grunting noncommittally. “I was hoping to talk about Warren.”
“Not so fast, buster. That little girl is a Hansen, isn’t she?”
Boom.
And if it had taken Maddie less than six seconds to put two and two together, it wouldn’t take the rest of the town much longer. All the emotion he’d been holding back came pouring out of him. “I had no idea until a few hours ago, Mads. And I don’t know what to do. Suzannah wants ‘to talk’,” he made air quotes, “before she lets me meet her.”
Maddie didn’t react, she just nodded. “And?”
“And I’m mad as hell that I didn’t know about this before, that she didn’t find me and tell me, because I’ve never wanted anything more than what y’all have – a family. And I wanna make this right, and I want to be her daddy.” His voice caught.
Maddie made a sympathetic noise. “There’s more to this, isn’t there?”
Maybe it was his shock from the day, or that the pain in his arm was fuzzing his judgment. Or maybe it was just that he was tired of holding it all in, and Maddie had always been like a sister to him. But in the shadow of the moonlit tree, the whole sordid story spilled out, hard and fast like an April downpour. He couldn’t stop it, and he didn’t want to. When he reached the end, he heaved a rugged sigh, spent.
Maddie’s hand came to his back. “You know what Daddy would have said?” She put on her best Warren imitation. “Son, you just gotta march over there and tell her what’s what. You be the man she’s been missin’ this whole time.”
Her imitation brought a lump to his throat. “And then he’d tell me to go eat a slice of pie.”
She nodded, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Exactly.” She half-sobbed, laying her head on his shoulder. “God, I miss him.”
“I know. Me too, stubborn ole cuss.”
They sat in silence for a long time, the soft night air enfolding them like a blanket. The wonder of it all stole over him. He’d made a baby with Suzannah, and he would do whatever it took to prove himself worthy of the title father. The universe had handed him the opportunity of a lifetime with the woman he’d loved more than any other, and he would not blow this chance at making a family. Fear be damned. The past be damned. Suzannah and Lulah were his to worry about now, his responsibility to provide for. First and foremost, he was a Hansen, and the Hansen men had always stepped up, always cared for their own. Resolve strengthening, he cleared his throat. “Will you help me buy a car seat? I wanna do this right, and I don’t even know where to start.”
Maddie’s arms came around him in a fierce hug. “I need to drive into Manhattan tomorrow, why don’t you come with me?”
CHAPTER 9
Next evening, Gunnar slowed his truck to a stop in front of Suzannah’s little bungalow, and checked the dashboard clock one last time. The green lights read five-thirty. Surely, she’d be home from the clinic by now?
He glanced over to the passenger seat. Three large colorful gift bags sat overflowing with clothes, dress-up costumes, books, blocks, and puzzles. He’d naturally gravitated to anything pink, but Maddie had very quickly set him straight, so many of the items were gender-neutral. Except for the pink princess dress with the sparkles and the matching tiara and wand. And the green and pink fairy wings. And the enormous pink pillow unicorn. A daddy had to give a few frilly things to his little girl. Even if she ended up playing with lassos and batman glasses. Nothing wrong with girls wanting to be Batman, no sirree. If his baby girl wanted to be a crime-fighting superhero in a black cape, he’d help her every step of the way. In fact, he’d found a second pair of Batman glasses, and a belt to go with her homemade cape.
He hopped out of the truck, jammed on his straw Stetson, and rounded the front, opening the passenger door. The unicorn went under his injured arm. Next, he looped the bags in the crook of his elbow, and last, he bent to retrieve one of Dottie’s chocolate cream pies.
Pie fixes everything. Dottie’s words echoed in Gunnar’s head as he marched up the walk. How many times had he heard that mantra over the years? Pie fixes everything. Would it be enough to fix things with Suzannah? Would it smooth the way to starting over, this time on the right foot? He rolled his shoulders back, and sniffed in a quick breath, zooming in on the doorbell. His heart pounded with the same half-thrilled, half-sick anticipation that he’d had the first time he’d stepped into the round pen with a wild mustang. He had the feeling Suzannah’s bullshit meter was as sensitive as a horse’s. One wrong move, and you could lose a horse’s trust forever. By his estimation, he’d already made a couple of wrong moves with Suzannah. He needed to prove to her once and for all he could be her man. She and Lulah could count on him, no matter what.
He pushed the bell once, heart pounding way up in his neck. The old-fashioned chimes reverberated across the porch. The seconds dragged on for hours. The door swung open, and Gunnar forgot to breathe. Suzannah exchanged her scrubs for yoga pants and a soft, very clingy, very touchable pink tank top. She’d taken her hair out of her signature ponytail and piled it on top of her head in a messy bun, tendrils hanging down at odd intervals. She looked like a piece of candy, waiting to be licked, devoured. Her eyes widened in surprise, and her hand flew to her mouth. Her eyes crinkled at the corners like she was amused. “What is this?” she asked, voice muffled by her hand.
Was she laughing?
He held out the pie. “I didn’t go overboard, did I?” he deadpanned.
She shook her head, eyes sparkling. “You’re crazy.”
He flashed her a grin. “Does that mean you’ll accept my peace offering?”
She shook her head again, eyes darting from the pie, to the gifts, to his face, and back to the pie. Maybe the pie was working. Still shaking her head, she took the pie. “I don’t know what to say.”
“How about, Come in Gunnar? Have some pie.”
A soft giggle escaped, and he gave an internal fist pump. He’d take giggles over scowls any day. She rolled her bottom lip under her teeth, and his cock jumped to life. Even in her uncertainty, sensuality poured from her. And a thousand dirty pictures jumped into his head detailing all the creative ways they could taste the chocolate cream pie she held in her hand. Could she read his mind? The arc of electricity that jumped between them and the heat that flared in her eyes for no more than an instant, made him think so. He shifted his weight under her intense stare, arm starting to throb.
“Okay.”
She nodded, and Gunnar melted in relief. Step one, accomplished.
“Lulah’s over at the park with her friend Dylan and his mom. We have about thirty minutes.”
Not nearly long enough, but he’
d take it.
She stood in front of the screen door, holding it open, and he swore he heard her whisper something under her breath. It sounded a helluva lot like so hot. He fought a grin as he turned around and stepped out of her way, following her through the living area to the kitchen. The house was laid out like most of the bungalows in Prairie, main living area, small kitchen and dining to the left, with a door to the back yard. In front of him, a short hall leading to a bathroom and two bedrooms. Perfect for a little family.
She placed the pie on the table and gestured to a chair. “Thank you. For this,” there was a little tremor in her voice, as if she didn’t quite know what to make of all of it. “But it really is too much.”
He set the packages and the unicorn pillow over to one side of the table, not ready to sit. “Nonsense. Nothing’s too much for my little girl.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, but–”
“I promise I won’t spoil her, if that’s what you’re worried about, but I wanted to do something. I mean, it’s not every day you learn that there’s an adorable little girl running around, carrying your genes.”
That made her smile, but only briefly. “I see.” She eyed the pie hungrily.
“Dottie said this pie makes people swoon.”
The spark of humor returned to her eyes. “Is that so?”
“Yup.” He added a nod for emphasis.
“And you’re hoping to make me swoon?”
Hell, yeah. Suzannah falling straight into his arms would be very nice. Maybe they could even make a repeat of yesterday. He raked his eyes over her figure, lingering just long enough at the sweet spots to pull a little pink into her cheeks. “Damn straight.” He looked her straight in the eye so she wouldn’t mistake his meaning. Her cheeks darkened, and a blush began to creep up her neck. This was the Suzannah he remembered, flushed and rosy with arousal, soft and pliant under his hands.
The tension sizzled, building as neither of them spoke. Who would blink first in this battle of wills? Suzannah’s mouth dropped open, her breathing becoming more shallow, but in the end, she dropped her gaze, and Gunnar couldn’t help but sag a little in disappointment.