Tears gathered in Lemon’s eyes and she sniffed, then reached for a napkin. “No, it’s not.”
Skylar’s eyes rounded. She sprang out of her seat and practically shoved herself beside Lemon. “I’m so sorry. I was only teasing you, like you used to do with Mason and me.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. I’ve never seen you cry.”
“McCoy women don’t cry over men.”
“They really don’t,” Skylar agreed as tears fell on Lemon’s cheeks. Her friend took the napkin from her and dabbed at them. “Want me to get Mason to kick Tristan’s ass? Go all SEAL on him?”
Lemon laughed through her tears. “I don’t think he could hurt his twin.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised. When Tristan comes over, he and Mason always get into some kind of contest that ends up with them fighting. At first, I thought it was weird, but now... comes with the territory.”
“Does Tristan come to Mason’s a lot?”
“As often as Mason will let him. We’ve been working on boundary issues with his family—as in Mason wants to erect a twelve-foot concrete wall with barbwire at the top around the house, while I think a simple this isn’t a good time is better—but Tristan is the one person he sees regularly. Well, besides me.”
“That’s good.” Lemon set her fork down beside her plate, unable to take another bite.
“What happened with you and Tristan? Did he give you the brush off?”
“He gave me a baby.”
“A what?” Skylar all but screeched into Lemon’s ear.
Jerking away slightly, she rubbed her ear and said, “Could you not do that again?”
“Sorry, it’s... wow. You’re pregnant. I’m—I’m shocked.”
“Imagine my surprise,” Lemon said wryly.
Skylar shook her head. “Don’t listen to me. I’m being the worst friend ever.” Leaning in, she caught her up in a hug. “What do you need? What can I do?”
“Help me plan a wedding,” Lemon said. Skylar sat back, a thousand questions plainly written on her face. “Tristan and I are getting married.”
“Because of the baby?”
Lemon nodded as fresh tears fell down her cheeks. “Isn’t that grand?”
“Aw, honey. It’s wonderful. You’ll make a beautiful bride.” Skylar grabbed her hand and gave her a gentle squeeze. “I’ll help you in whatever way I can.”
Can you make him love me? But she couldn’t ask her friend to do that. No one could make Tristan Lawson do anything he didn’t want to. Heck, she was still surprised that he agreed to marry her. Knowing him like she did, she had expected him to counter-propose some stupid co-parenting relationship in which they were free to date other people.
“Thank you, Skylar.”
“What does your family think?”
“They don’t know.”
“Not even your sisters?” A look of disbelief covered Skylar’s pretty face.
“Especially not them. Apple would try to convince me to raise the baby on my own, with her to help, of course, but...I don’t want that. Only, neither of my sisters likes Tristan. They’ve never thought he was good enough for me.”
Skylar wrinkled her nose. “Really? Why would that be an issue?”
“Because a long time ago, I thought I was in love with him...and I thought—well, I assumed—he felt the same way about me.”
“What happened?”
Lemon thought for a moment, then smiled sadly. “What always happens with us. We go back to our old ways.”
Tristan found his brother near the east corner of the house, hauling cinderblocks and carefully placing them on top of one another in what looked to be... a wall? Bomber, his service dog, laid under a nearby tree, his tail flicking every so often.
“What are you doing here?” Mason asked without turning around.
He’d always admired his brother’s ability to do that. Mason’s SEAL training was both a blessing and a curse.
“Damn, that cheap-ass cologne stinks,” Mason muttered, then turned to face him, taking off his gloves. “It announces your arrival before you do.”
“Thanks.” Tristan eyed the wall. “What are you doing?”
“Building a monument to my dick. It’s to scale, but don’t let that intimidate you.”
“Dick jokes. Now my day is complete.” Normally, he joined right in with Mason, but right now... he didn’t have it in him.
That’s what she said.
Okay, so maybe he did have it in him.
That’s what she said again.
Shut up.
Just livening things up.
“Skylar know you’re building that?” he asked, enjoying the uncomfortable look making its way onto his brother’s face.
“We’ve talked about it,” he mumbled and grabbed a bottle of water. “I’ve got shit to do before she gets home, so make it fast.”
Fine with him. “I’m getting married.”
“Mazel Tov.” Mason emptied the bottle and tossed it in a bin, before pulling on his gloves and hefting another block.
“You don’t want to know who?” His twin had always been maddeningly unaffected by anyone, and the military had made it worse. Well, until Skylar had come along.
“Figured I would find out when the invitation arrived.” The block hit the one below it with a thud. “Skylar and I will be unable to attend. Consider that my RSVP.”
Tristan took a breath. “It’s Lemon McCoy.”
Mason paused for a beat, glancing over his shoulder. His face was red and sweat dotted his brow. “You’re fucking with me.”
“Nope.”
His brother dropped the block and moved to him. “Why?”
“Because she asked me to.”
“Why?”
Tristan tugged at the collar of his shirt. “Because I got her pregnant.”
Mason took one look at him, hauled his arm back, and punched him in the gut. Hard.
Pain exploded, making Tristan grunt and his eyes water. He rubbed at the spot and exhaled. Damn, his brother could hit. If Tristan hadn’t been one to keep up a strict workout regimen, then he would be on the ground right now.
“What the hell was that for?”
“She doesn’t have any brothers,” Mason said by way of explanation as he stepped back, his entire demeanor calm. “You’re older than she is and should have suited up.”
“She’s twenty-four, asshole, not a kid.”
“It’s a man’s responsibility to take care of his woman—doesn’t matter if she’s his woman only for the night, or for the rest of his life.”
His brother was right. Their older brothers had drilled it in them, but had he listened? Well, he had until Lemon. His only excuse was that he didn’t have one.
“I know. It’s also my responsibility to take care of her and the baby, so we’re getting married.”
Eyeing him, Mason grunted. “You and Lemon McCoy, huh? Ain’t that a kick in the pants?”
“When life gives you a Lemon... marry her,” Tristan said with a shrug.
“Just so long as you don’t horn in on Skylar’s wedding, we’re copacetic.”
“I’m the best man.”
“Bomber’s the best man,” Mason said, nodding at the dog. “You’re the ring bearer.”
Tristan made a face. “I thought that was Austin.”
“Have you seen the way he’s been fumbling the ball lately—not a chance in hell.”
“Fair point.” Tristan rocked back on his heels. “Can’t believe you’re going to have a big wedding.”
“I’m not.”
“Who’d you leave off the guest list?”
“Everyone.” Mason brushed off his gloves. “We’re getting married here, and it’s just family—only shit for brains like yourself and the two wives. And my nephews. Soon as we finish eating, everyone’s getting the hell out.”
“Sounds like a great time.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Think Lemon wants a big one?”
“N
ot if she agreed to marry you.”
“We’re twins, moron.”
“Fraternal twins, genius.”
“Be my best man?”
“Yeah.” Mason turned and walked away. “Stop being so nervous, Tristan. You’ll be a great dad.”
“But not husband?”
“That’s for you to figure out, and now that we’re done sharing our feelings and shit, I got a dick monument to finish erecting.”
“Looks a little limp on the north side.”
His brother flipped him off.
As he shuffled back to his truck, he couldn’t help but think about Lemon and their situation. Their entirely screwed-up situation.
What would their families say? His parents, especially his mother, would be overjoyed. It was Dinah’s mission in life to see all her children happily married, but luckily, she wasn’t too pushy about it.
Still, how would they announce the news? What did either of them really expect of this marriage? He knew what he wanted from it, but Lemon hadn’t mentioned feelings or a long-term situation.
A planner by nature, he couldn’t reconcile with not having answers, or at the very least her expectations.
Judging by the way that she left his office today was not the day to try to get the information from her.
But, there was always tomorrow.
Chapter Six
The next morning brought the usual for Lemon, a quick dash to the bathroom, followed by nibbling on crackers until her stomach settled down enough for her to go downstairs to eat an elaborate Sunday breakfast.
However, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She couldn’t sit at her parents’ table another day and pretend everything was fine, even if Tristan had agreed to marry her.
The landline rang. The only person who called her on that was her mother, from her own phone because she wasn’t a fan of texting someone in her own home.
“Good morning, Momma.”
“Lemon, darling. Your father and I decided to go to Wilmington for the day. We’re headed out the door right now.”
Thank goodness. Now she didn’t have to come up with an excuse as to why she couldn’t do, well, anything today.
“Have fun.” Lemon hung up the phone and settled down into the pillow again.
What if Tristan decided not to marry her? What if he left town altogether and she had to go at it alone? What if she left town—sold her business to Juanita and started over with a fresh slate? She could be anyone¸ maybe even go by her middle name instead of Lemon. Make new friends. Finally buy that little white cottage with a blue door.
It wasn’t impossible.
Her phone buzzed. She sat up a little in bed and grabbed it from the nightstand.
I’d like to take you to dinner tonight.
Her eyes narrowed, even as her heart sped up. Tristan.
Lemon: I’ll have to decline. I already have plans.
Tristan: When we announce our engagement, it’s going to look mighty suspicious if we’re never seen in each other’s company before then.
He had a point, but she couldn’t see herself getting out of bed right now because she would have to explain why she was going into town on a Sunday evening to her parents.
Not because they needed to know everything, but because she usually did share that sort of information. Clearly, she needed to move out.
Lemon: Honestly, I’m not feeling well. Maybe tomorrow.
Tristan: Is there anyone at home to take care of you?
Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard for a moment.
Lemon: No.
Tristan: Be there in fifteen minutes.
Lemon: You’ll need a code to get in.
With a slight wince, she texted him the four-digit number.
Tristan: Be there soon.
She debated on whether or not to get dressed, instead of leaving her pajamas on. In the end, she settled on he could see her in her natural state. Which meant no make up and her hair was in a messy bun
There was a knock at her bedroom door.
“Come in.”
Tristan walked inside, his expression one of concern and not contempt, with a bag looped over his muscular arm. Her traitorous heart beat faster at the sight of him.
“Hi. Thank you for stopping by to check on me.” She would be civil to him until he was uncivil to her.
“Have you eaten?” he asked.
“Some crackers.” She scooted up into a sitting position as he sat down beside her on the bed. He was unusually dressed down in a t-shirt and a worn pair of jeans.
“Brought you some soup from my mother.”
“You told her!”
He shook his head. “I said you were under the weather.”
“Oh.”
“She will find out, though. Everyone will.” He glanced at her stomach, which was covered by an oversized t-shirt. “Eventually.”
“I know they will.”
After a beat of silence, Tristan opened the bag and set a plastic container on the nightstand. “Soup—still warm, by the way, a slice of pound cake, a book on pregnancy—”
“I have five of those.”
“It’s for me,” he said, pulling another item out of his bag. “This is for the baby.”
Lemon took the yellow-and-white blanket from him, a little in awe of the craftsmanship. “It’s so soft.”
“It was mine.”
Her gaze flew to his. “I can’t possibly take this. It’s too precious, and your mother will be beside herself when she realizes it’s gone.”
Smiling a little, he said, “It’s not for you, remember? Besides, I doubt my mother will miss one baby blanket.” Suddenly, he began to unlace his boots. After toeing them off, he stretched out on the bed, grabbing the pregnancy book in the process.
“What are you doing?” she gasped, scooting away from him.
“Thought I’d spend the day with you.”
“In my bed?”
He quirked a brow. “Seems fair since you already spent the night in mine.”
Her face heated. “We are not doing that.”
“I’m not going to do anything but read and take care of you.” He grinned wickedly. “But if taking care of you did include that, then I’m amenable.”
“So you’re going to just lay here and read while I lay here and do nothing?”
“Yep.” He cracked open the book. “What month are you in?”
“Month two.” She rubbed Tristan’s baby blanket against her cheek. She wasn’t exactly sure what to do about his thoughtfulness. It wasn’t exactly uncharacteristic for him, but she’d never been on the receiving end of his sweetness. At least, not like this.
“It looks like a lima bean with flippers.”
“Big head, too, just like its daddy.” She glanced at the drawing in the book and smiled shyly. “Next time I go to the doctor, you could come with me. She says I get to hear the heartbeat.”
“When is that?”
“In a couple of weeks.”
“That soon?”
“Apparently so,” she said, turning on her side to face him.
He turned toward her. “Can I touch you there?”
She nodded and lifted her shirt until it rested just below her breasts. He reached out, his golden skin a stark contrast against her pale, freckled stomach. Time seemed to stand still as he slowly touched her, his fingers gently skimming her still-flat belly.
Tristan didn’t say a word. His lashes rested on his cheeks and he seemed deep in thought. She didn’t want to disturb him.
“My baby—our baby—is in there,” he said so quietly that she had to strain to hear him.
“Yes.” Her hand covered his, and his lashes lifted.
His blue gaze burned into hers. “I don’t want to wait to get married, Lemon. I want you in my house, in my bed... I want to take care of you,” he said ,and she blinked.
“What about after the baby is born?” she asked.
He tilted his head to one side. “When Lawson men get marri
ed, it’s for life.”
“When McCoy women marry, it’s for as long as it suits them.”
“Do you expect me to take your last name, like your father did for your mother?” he asked.
“It’s tradition.”
“Not asking about tradition. I’m asking what you, Lemon Ann McCoy, want.” He flexed his hand under hers. “I remember you telling me that you wanted to be different from the rest of your family.”
Her letters to him. “You remember what I wrote?”
“Every word.”
“I don’t want to continue that tradition.” Or any of the others she secretly hated.
“Why don’t we start our own traditions?” Slipping his hand out from under her, he gently grabbed it and brought it to his mouth, kissing her knuckles.
She gasped in pleasure, and her nipples hardened. “Like what?”
“That we marry for the rest of our lives and that you, sweet Lemon, take my last name.” He leaned over her, and she rolled to her back. His head dipped, his mouth coming dangerously close to hers. She licked her lips, desperately wanting to do the same to his, but she couldn’t because she knew what would happen.
They would have sex, then one of the women from his harem would show up and humiliate her. Again.
“What do you say?” he asked, brushing his mouth against her cheek.
She shivered in response.
He chuckled low in his throat. “I think this is the first time I’ve ever rendered you speechless.”
Like a lovesick fool, she continued to stare up at him and not say a word.
Tristan ran the back of his knuckles over the supremely silky skin of Lemon’s cheek. “You are so damn beautiful.” Even without makeup and having a greenish tint to her face, she remained the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on.
Her pretty eyes gazed up at him with so much vulnerability in them that his heart physically ached for her. She didn’t trust him. He knew it, and he had to do something to change her mind.
Coming here today to take care of her had been a start in the right direction, or so he hoped.
“What about all the women you date?” she asked.
“Gone.” He hadn’t slept with anyone since Lemon. Before that, he hadn’t slept with anyone in months.
Love So Tempting Page 4