“How was your day?”
Whitney glances up at me, like she’s surprised I asked. Maybe she’s surprised I care.
“Good,” she takes a drink of her ice water. “I had a meeting with a new client. She’s interested me in doing both a wedding and a business event for her.”
“You don’t do business events usually, do you?”
She shakes her head. “Not so much anymore. When I first started, it was more of an event planning business, but it slowly evolved to weddings. Which is what I like to do more than anything. It’s hands on, and I get to work directly with the bride and groom. Sometimes it can be plain and simple, sometimes it’s black tie and Cinderella fancy. I never know what my day is going to bring – that’s what I like about it.”
“Kinda why I like police work and the task force,” I can relate. “No day is routine, there’s always something different about every shift.”
“What do you do when you’re bored?”
The question catches me off guard and I want to clarify what she’s asking. “When I’m at work or when I’m at home?”
“Either. We don’t know a whole lot about each other except what we have in common with Trevor and what we look like with our clothes off.”
I laugh because she’s right. “If I’m at work, I’m normally with Trevor. We read news articles to each other, or we talk about sports. Sometimes we’ll park the patrol car and take a walk, just to get out and do something different for a while. If I’m at home, I either Netflix something, go workout, or go work in the wood shop I put in behind my apartment.”
“You do woodwork?” her eyes light up.
This is a part of myself I keep quiet, not because I’m embarrassed, but because it’s important to me. Not many people know I do it. My grandfather taught me as a kid before he passed on, and what he didn’t teach me, I taught myself. “Yeah,” I grin at her enthusiasm. “I’m not super good at it, but I enjoy it. Once or twice a year I’ll set up at one of the festivals, usually the winter one since people want Christmas gifts.”
“Do you do well?” she asks, very interested in what I’m telling her.
“Usually sell out,” my voice is quiet. I don’t want her to think I’m bragging. I don’t do it for the money, I do it because it’s fun and it makes me feel closer to the one man who gave a damn about me.
“Ryan that’s amazing.”
“Everybody has that one thing they’re good at, right?” I shrug.
“From where I sit you’re good at a number of things.”
I try not to let those words mean as much as they do, but I can’t wait to show her what else I’m good at. When I put my mind to something, I conquer it, and I can’t wait to be great at being a father to our child, along with a reliable partner for her.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Whitney
Tuesday night has now become my favorite night of the week, followed by Thursday. For a month Ryan and I have been doing dinner. The first week was awkward, but now we’ve settled into a pattern. I cook on Tuesday and he cooks on Thursday. I try not look too deeply into why Tuesday is my favorite night, but I know it’s because I get to take care of him.
We’ve still managed to keep our secret, but it’s not going to be much longer. The morning sickness has finally gone away and now I’m starting to gain weight. My clothes are fitting more tightly now that we’re almost into the fourth month. We’re going to need to start decorating a nursery and making plans soon. I’m a planner, obviously, and we both want to know the gender of the baby, can’t even begin to tell you how excited I’m becoming about this new season of life.
I check the clock on my SUV as I pull into the driveway. I have about forty-five minutes before Ryan gets here, which is nice, because that means I’ll be able to figure out something to wear that fits. As I’m letting myself into the house, my phone rings. Flipping it over, I see my brother’s smiling face.
“Hey Trevor,” I answer, closing the door, setting my stuff on the counter, and making my way upstairs.
“I haven’t heard from you in a while, Sis. I was gettin’ a little worried.”
I love him, I do, but my brother has this uncanny ability to call me when I’m about to let my guard down. He knows exactly the questions to ask me in order for me to fess up and I can’t let that happen right now. Pregnancy brain is a real thing for me, and I have no doubt somehow he’ll know, and then I’m screwed.
“I’m good,” I answer, hoping I don’t sound as winded as I feel after walking the length of the hallway and reaching down to take my shoes off. I’m not sure why I thought it would be a good idea to wear the high heels with the buckle straps today.
“Mom said you haven’t been over for Sunday dinner in a few weeks.”
Trevor is as subtle as a spaceship landing outside on my front yard.
“I’ve been busy. You know this is my busy season, and it’s not easy running my own business,” I make the excuse. Truth is I’m so tired that all I wanna do on the weekends is sleep, and I’m scared my mom will be able to look at me and see what’s going on. Usually I’m the one laying this guilt trip on Trevor so I have no idea what’s happening here.
“Are you sure that’s all it is? Most of the time when you’re busy you at least have time to send me a text to let me know you’re okay. I know you haven’t told mom about the baby yet,” he drops his bomb. “And even though I’ve asked, you still haven’t told me who the dad is.”
“Because it’s none of your business. Right now he and I are trying to figure things out, and I don’t need you in the middle of it, trying to fix this for me. I love you, Trevor, but you’ve got to let me deal with my own life.”
He’s quiet for a few minutes and I can almost hear him gripping the phone, can hear his teeth grinding against one another. “I didn’t know what Stephen was doing to you, and I’ll never forgive myself for it. If anyone could have helped you, it was me.”
My heart almost breaks as I hear the tortured timbre of his voice. I forget he has in some ways been affected even more than I was by not only the breakup of my marriage, but what he suspects has happened. I hope Ryan didn’t tell him anything I told him in confidence.
“Trev, I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself. Regardless of what you think, I always have been. I don’t blame anyone but myself for the situation I was in. Truthfully, it made me a stronger person. Now I know what I want, and I won’t settle for less again.”
And I won’t because I took less the first time around, and even if it means being a single mother for the rest of my life, I will be. It doesn’t scare me, not like it probably would other women. What scares me is giving up my independence and handing it over to a man who’ll snuff it out.
“Just know I’m always here to talk. It doesn’t matter what time of the day or night it is, Whit. I couldn’t be there for you the first time around, but I can be there for you now.”
Damn emotions – what he said brings tears to my eyes. “I know,” I strangle out against a tight throat. “And I appreciate it, but please respect my decision when I say I’ll tell you everything when I’m ready.”
“I’m gonna hold you to those words, Whit. I just need to know you’re taken care of.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, but I gotta go,” I’ve got to get off the phone with him before he makes me cry.
“Love you, Whit.”
Damn him.
“Love you too, Trev.”
I hang up before I put my face in my hands and sob. I don’t know why I’m crying, I’m not even sure why the emotions are coming at me so hard tonight. Maybe I’m tired. I haven’t been sleeping well and I’ve been missing out on my afternoon nap. Another thought creeps into my subconscious and I do my best to block it out, but it’s there, making its presence known.
Maybe I miss Ryan.
That can’t be it, I tell myself, but there’s no mistaking the way my heart beats faster on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I purposely don’t work late on those
days, either. In fact, I’ve started taking off earlier on those days so I can get home and get changed before he arrives. It’s not necessarily that I want to look cute for him, but – shit – let’s face it, I do. I plop down across the bed, letting my head fall off the other side.
What the hell am I going to do? I’m the one who said there wouldn’t be any kind of relationship and look what I’m doing.
“Okay, Whit, here’s what you do. You keep track of how you feel when he’s around tonight.”
Saying the words out loud seems stupid, but there’s no one else here for me to talk to, and I decide this is my plan of attack. I’m going to gauge my feelings and see exactly what they are while he’s around. That way – if I lie to anyone – it’s only to myself.
* * *
“Do you like it?”
I tried a new recipe tonight, roast beef and gravy sandwiches. They simmered in the crockpot all day while I was at work. When I came home, I didn’t have to do much to throw dinner on the table.
“It’s not healthy, but damn that’s good,” he speaks carefully around the food in his mouth, moaning as he takes another bite.
“Sometimes I need to eat whatever I feel like. Tonight felt like comfort food,” I take a bite of my own sandwich, moaning along with him.
The taste of food has gotten sharper, and I swear sometimes I can tell individual ingredients. I’ve never been like this before, but from reading information on the internet, I know it’s from the pregnancy.
“Is anything wrong?”
How do I bring this up to him? How do I explain at thirty-five years old, I’m scared to tell my parents what I’ve done? I’m worried about the judgment, and another part of me is worried that he won’t stick around. “Trevor called me tonight, giving me a hard time about not going to Sunday dinners at my mom’s.”
His green gaze pierces mine. I want to hide from the depth of his stare, because I feel as if he looks directly into my soul. “Is it because of me?”
Honesty time apparently. “No, not directly. It’s because of the baby,” I reach down, cupping my hand over my small bump. “I don’t know how they’ll react.”
“Whit, you’re thirty-five years old. What’s it going to matter?”
It’s frustrating. He doesn’t come from the type of family I do. “You don’t have to hear their judgment, about how they’re so disappointed in me. I waited until I was divorced and then got knocked up.”
“I don’t have to hear it because you won’t let me,” his voice is quiet in the space of the kitchen.
I’m not entirely sure how we got here, angrily whispering words back and forth with one another. I put my fork down, appetite gone. He’s not lying, I’ve deliberately kept him away, because maybe this is my dirty little secret. Then again maybe this is something I wanted for me, and not to share with everyone else. Whatever it is, I realize I’m not being fair, but I’m still not sure I want to open us up to whatever our friends and family might dish out.
“It’s a simple decision, Princess. You either want me to be your secret, or you want me to be the father of your child. I can’t and won’t be both,” he slams his own fork down. “I thought that by spending time with you, you’d realize how serious I am about us co-parenting, or maybe even having a relationship. Obviously we can make it work between the sheets.”
“Don’t be crude, Ryan.”
“What was it you told me that night? You needed a dick in your treasure cove? Who was crude then? How come you get a different set of rules than I do?”
“That’s not fair,” I’m getting hot in my anger and stand up to fan my fingers in front of my face.
I look around as he gets up, too. Instinctively I move further back into the kitchen, until my waist hits the countertop on the far side.
“Don’t act like I’m about to hit you, Whit. I’m not that asshole you were married to. I think I’ve proven to you in the last few months that I’m different. I’d prove it to everyone if you’d let me. We’re two consenting adults having a conversation,” he runs his fingers through his hair.
My mouth is poised open to speak, but he continues.
“You wanna talk about what’s not fair? That’s mine,” he points to my stomach as he inches closer. “The child you carry is mine and yours, but you’re the one who gets to experience everything. I’m relegated to what you allow me to experience and you call all the shots. There’s nothing I can take for granted, because you won’t let me.”
My mind tells me to find a way out, my heart thumps against my chest, and my breath becomes pants as he’s finally close enough to touch me.
“Wanna know what else was mine?” His eyes are dark, voice soft, hands gentle as one reaches out to cup the back of my neck while the other slides against my cheek.
“No,” I whisper as I nod my head yes. Everything about Ryan and me is highlighted in this exchange. My voice is saying no, while my body says yes.
“You do,” he moves his mouth to my ear. “You wanna know. Stop fighting it, Princess. For those few hours that night, you were mine, and they were the best hours of my life. I had everything I’d ever wanted at my fingertips. I gorged on you, I lived in you, and I left a piece of myself behind,” he breathes deeply, a sigh that moves the hair at my temple. “Damnit, Princess, I’d be everything you need if you’d just give me the fucking chance.”
It all sounds so good to hear him talk. I move my hands up to his biceps, curling my fingers in the skin, denting them with my fingernails. “I want to,” I mouth, but I know he doesn’t hear me, because I don’t let the words escape.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Renegade
I’ve been good. Since this started I’ve let her call the shots, let her decide what part I get to play, what she’ll allow me to do. I’ve never been the type of person to just sit back and let others direct me in my personal life. Doing what I do for a job, I have to be able to take, execute, and adjust my orders. I don’t like it so much when I’m cut off at the knees in my personal life. It hits me like a freight train, the need to show this woman what I want from her.
Her finger nails are cutting into my flesh she’s holding me so tightly. The weight of her body is leaning into me, and I’m taking it. I want to show her how much I support her, how invaluable I am when she needs someone to lean on. I’m not the kind of guy to run when things get tough. Never in my life have I backed away from a fight, whether it be between me and my dad, me and gunfire in the middle of the night, or me and a perp. Ryan Kepler hangs around and gets the job done, no matter how difficult it is.
“Whit,” my voice is tight. I’ve been holding my feelings, my instincts back for a long time. It’s been hard, it’s taken its toll. The tension between us isn’t even thick anymore; it’s a solid force, a concrete wall that we need to either plow through or scale the fuck over.
“Ryan,” I can barely hear the words. Her breath fans against my neck, where she’s buried her face. If it hadn’t been for the soft stir, I might not have even heard my name whispered against my skin. She’s holding herself so still and close, she’s starting to mold around my muscles.
My arms go around her, holding her tighter, our bodies touching from toes to head. Every part of her is tucked against me, and I feel more protective of her than I’ve ever felt for anyone else. I also want her more than I’ve ever wanted another person in my life.
“Fuck it all,” I mumble as I move my hands to her hair, dig my fingers against her scalp, and tilt it back.
She’s surprised because she opens her mouth on a gasp, and when she does, I capture her lips with mine. What I meant to be a slow kiss is a fast drop into passion. My tongue invades her space, sweeping against the roof of her mouth, tasting the juice she prefers to drink right now. I breathe deeply, inhaling the apple-scented lotion she likes to wear. Pushing against her body, we stop when she collides with the counter of the breakfast bar. Her hands are gripping my waist, her fingers tightening in the cloth of my t-shirt. Disentangling
my hands from her hair, I move them down to her waist holding them there for a few seconds before I realize I don’t want to be a gentleman anymore. I want her to know me, the real me, who took what he wanted the night we spent together. Trailing my hands down to the curve of her ass, I cup the flesh and pull her into the cradle of my thighs, letting her feel how much she affects me.
Tearing her lips from mine, she moans. “Jesus, Ryan, you’re…” she trails off, biting her bottom lip as she lets her head fall back, thrusts her pussy into me.
“Hard as a rock,” I supply for her, grasping the lobe of her ear in between my lips, using my teeth to tug slightly. “Happens every damn time I’m around you.”
I bend with my knees, grasping her ass tighter, and lift her so that she’s perched on the countertop. Here, she’s eye-level with me. I take a moment to look into her eyes, make sure she’s okay with all of this and it’s not just her hormones. What I see when I look is passion, need, desire, and maybe a little bit of disbelief. Deciding she’s into it, I move my hands to her thighs, pushing the same pink sundress she wore the first night we met for dinner at her house up around her waist.
“From the bottom of my heart, thank you for wearing this dress. The first night I saw you in it, I wanted to do this with you,” I admit, latching onto her neck as I push her thighs apart already feeling the heat from her core.
“I wanted you to,” her voice is low, strained, and full of need. “I wanted this to happen. I’ve wanted this to happen every time we’ve been together since the first time. I don’t know what you did to me, Ryan, but I wake up at night wishing you were there. I’m hot, horny, and so fucking frustrated,” she bites her lip as I move the panel of her panties aside and let my finger tip dip into her heat.
“I can take care of all those problems for you, Princess, you’ve only got to be honest with me. Tell me what you need, tell me what I can do to make it better.”
Renegade (Moonshine Task Force Book 1) Page 10