by Nikki Ash
That’s when I was done.
Sure, I could have hired my own attorney and went after him for support, but do you know what? He didn’t want to be involved. I gave him every opportunity to step up and take care of his child, even if it was through financial support, but he chose a different route. The threat of a lawsuit was enough for me to realize he wasn’t who I thought he was when I met him.
I feel sadness sweep in as I picture Rowan’s life as he starts to grow up without a father. It’s done all the time by brave mothers, and in some cases, heroic fathers who step up and become the sole provider. I can do this too. I don’t need him. I don’t need his money. Fuck him and his lawyers.
Rowan finishes feeding and burps a second time. This is when he’s all snuggly and curls up so perfectly on my chest. I should put him down in his bassinet to sleep, but I can’t help it if I want to hold him just a little bit longer. Everyone says to enjoy these moments, they don’t last long, so I’m trying to do just that. Even if my lack of sleep and constant state of tiredness seems to be never-ending, I know someday, I’ll look back and wish he were still my tiny baby again.
When he seems to fall into a deep sleep, I gingerly get up from the glider and head to my bedroom. I did plenty of research while pregnant and decided the best option for me was to have him in my room for the first three months. Then, when he reaches that milestone, I’ll move him to his crib. Having him this close makes nighttime feedings much easier, that’s for sure. Plus, as a new parent, I’m still in the checking on him fourteen times a night phase.
A quick glance at the clock confirms my brother should be here soon. Probably wouldn’t hurt to steal a shower while Rowan sleeps. Plus, I’m not sure when I had one. I don’t think I did yesterday, did I? I don’t know. The days all run into each other at this point.
I grab clean undergarments and head for the bathroom, cranking up the hot water as warm as I can. Knowing Rowan can sleep for five minutes or three hours, I make quick work of cleaning my body and hair. I’m still a little tender from delivery, but every day gets better.
At least I’m not sitting on a donut anymore.
After a shower, I dress quickly, brush my hair, check on my son, and head down to the kitchen. My stomach growls, reminding me I haven’t eaten much yet today. It’s almost lunchtime, but before I can find something to snack on, there’s a knock on my door. I practically sprint to the living room, taking a quick peek through the peephole before throwing the lock and ripping the door open.
There he is.
Alex.
My smile is so wide it hurts, but I don’t care. I haven’t seen my brother in almost six months. He drops his bag just before I leap into his arms and squeeze with everything I have. He does the same. Warmth and comfort envelop me as tears prickle my eyes. “God, I’ve missed you,” I whisper, a mix of happiness and relief settling in my chest.
“Missed you more, Ash.” He sets me down and gives me a once-over. “You look great,” he adds with a smile.
I snort, because I know he’s just being polite. My hair is still wet and limp, I’ve got bags under my eyes big enough to carry luggage for a week’s getaway, and I’m still sporting an extra five pounds in my gut. Okay, fine more like ten pounds, but who’s counting really? “That’s sweet, but you don’t have to lie to me. I look like hell.”
But at least I’m smiling.
He goes to reply, but whatever he says is lost on me. A movement behind him catches my eye, and for the first time, I realize we’re not alone. I glance around his broad chest to see who’s with him. My heart starts to hammer so loud, I’m sure they can hear it throughout the neighborhood. The mystery guest is impossibly tall and muscular, with a very familiar dimple in his chin. Even though he’s wearing Aviator shades, I can feel his eyes on me like a caress. Or a dagger. I’m not sure which.
But I know who it is.
Tate.
What I don’t know is why the hell he’s here, on my doorstep, smiling like he doesn’t have a care in the world. My world changed because of him.
Because of that one night.
The night that gave me Rowan.
Chapter Three
Tate
She’s even more beautiful than in my dreams. Her hair is still wet, probably from a shower, and she looks like she’s barely slept all week. Yet, there’s a light in her eye, a glimmer of enthusiasm and bliss that I’ve missed. Sure, all of it is aimed at her brother and not at me. What’s aimed at me has a little more fire behind it. Anger, even, and I have no clue why. I’m not the one keeping a big fat secret from everyone around her.
“Ash, you remember Tate, right?” Alex asks, looking back over his shoulder and smiling at me.
His sister, on the other hand, does not smile. She glares, hard and intimidating. It’s pretty fucking cute but telling her that is probably a bad idea. “Hey, Ash,” I greet, a little singsong in my voice.
Her eyes narrow into little slits. “Tate, yeah. What are you doing here?” she asks, trying to keep her voice breezy, but it betrays her. Her tone is very frigid, icy.
Alex gives her a look. “He came with me,” he says, giving me an apologetic look over his shoulder. “Is that okay?”
She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out right away. Ashtyn gives her brother her full attention and smiles softly. “Yes, of course. Why don’t you come in? Both of you.” There’s a touch of irritation in that last part, and it makes me grin.
“This place is great,” I hear Alex state as we step inside Ashtyn’s house, and he’s right. It’s a decent little place with a spacious living room and big picture windows. The floors are old hardwood, with scratches and marks from probably years of moving furniture, and the couch is well-loved. It’s nothing like the firm, black leather sofa in my penthouse. The crazy part is, I can see her curling up on that blue and brown couch with a blanket to read a book a hell of a lot easier than I can see her trying to get comfortable on my sofa.
“Thanks. It’s a little messy, but I haven’t had much time lately to clean,” she replies through a yawn. Ashtyn is still completely ignoring my presence in her house, which baffles me.
Unless she’s guilty of something…
I glance around again, taking in her space with new eyes, and barely see what she’s talking about. Does she think this is messy? She should check out my place on Monday morning, after me and a few of my teammates watch old game films, eat pizza, and drink too much beer. I pay a pretty penny for someone to come in every Monday and Thursday and clean for me, but it’s well worth it.
Ashtyn doesn’t have a maid, I’m sure, but her place is still tidy and loved. Sure, there’s a glass sitting on the end table with a little water in it and some rags are thrown on the coffee table that are probably used, but her house is still cheerful and organized. Even though I don’t know her too well, it feels like her, and for some reason, that draws me in.
I take the bags of food I’m holding and set them down on the coffee table. Alex insisted on grabbing lunch for his sister, knowing she probably hasn’t had time to eat yet.
“So, when do I get to meet my nephew?” Alex asks with a beaming smile.
The mention of the baby has my eyes darting from one side of the room to the other. The baby isn’t in here but is here somewhere. Most likely sleeping in another room. I’m not sure why my heart is suddenly beating like a racehorse at the prospect of seeing Ashtyn’s son, but there’s something oddly exciting and comforting at the same time. All night I mulled over the details I knew, including the timeline. It’s too close to ignore, which is why I’m here today.
To find out the truth about her son.
Ashtyn smiles easily when her brother asks about the baby. “He’s sleeping, but I’ll go get him,” she says, finally glancing my way for the first time. There’s something in her eyes I’m not expecting. It’s more than anger. It’s disgust and maybe a little resentment. I really wish I knew why she’s so pissed off at me. I’m not the one keeping all the secret
s.
She disappears down the hallway, her hips naturally swaying a bit in her cotton shorts. They’re not pajamas, but definitely look comfortable and casual. I can picture her lying around and reading, the material hugging the globes of her ass. It’s enough to make my cock jump with excitement in my shorts.
Traitorous appendage…
Ashtyn returns a few minutes later with a blanket bundle in her arms, the softest grin on her pretty face. Alex moves, meeting her halfway. My eyes are glued to the scene, at the moment shared between brother and sister. I’ve never been a sentimental or nostalgic man, but witnessing my best friend meeting his nephew for the first time does a little something in my chest.
“Damn, Ash, he’s beautiful,” Alex says, the awe very evident in his voice. I watch as he reaches with his big finger and gently slides it across the infant’s face.
“Isn’t he?” she whispers. She looks back up at her brother and adds, “Do you want to hold him?”
“Uhh, yeah,” he replies, glancing around and spying a bottle of hand sanitizer. Alex quickly squirts some on his hands before returning to his sister. I hold my breath as she carefully transfers her son to her brother’s arms.
“Jesus, he’s so tiny.” I realize when Ashtyn looks my way, I said that aloud.
She gives me the side-eye, a touch of defensiveness when she replies, “He is a perfectly healthy seven-pound, ten-ounce baby.”
I hold up my hands in surrender. “I’m not saying he isn’t, Ash. It was just an observation.”
She continues to glare at me, which I return. She’s so fucking hostile, and to be honest, it’s turning me the fuck on. Bad.
“Can I sit down with him?” Alex asks, glancing around.
“Take the recliner. It’s more comfortable, and you can prop your elbow on the armrest.” Ashtyn helps get her brother settled in the chair before stroking her finger across the baby’s forehead. “He should sleep for a little while longer.”
“Why don’t you go ahead and eat?” Alex instructs. “Tate, will you take that food in the kitchen?”
I reach for the bags and head for the kitchen. It’s easy to find, just off the main living area. The counter has a small pile of drying dishes, a small stack of mail, and some fresh garden vegetables. I start to pull the food from the bags and can feel her presence behind me. I choose to ignore her, focusing on sorting lunch. I figure it best to let her sweat for just a little longer.
“What are you doing here?” Ashtyn whispers harshly.
“Grabbing sandwiches,” I state politely, pulling two BLTs and a ham and cheese from the first bag and two orders of onion rings and a bowl of chicken and rice soup from the second.
“No, Tate, what the hell are you doing here?” she asks with venom. As she steps up beside me, her rich vanilla scent slaps me right upside the face, eliciting all sorts of dirty memories that are better left where they were.
I pull off the lid to her soup and hold it up in front of her nose. “Here, it’s like a Snickers. Maybe you won’t be so crabby.” Yeah, I know I’m poking the bear, but dammit she so fucking sexy when she gets all pissed off.
Her heated eyes narrow before they drop to the bowl in my hand. “What kind is that?”
“Chicken and rice. Alex says you love soup,” I start, but am cut off from saying anymore when she grabs the Styrofoam bowl directly from my hand. Her stomach growls loudly the moment she turns her back to me and grabs a spoon from the drawer.
I turn and watch, slightly mesmerized by her beauty, as she drops down on one of the chairs and takes a spoonful of creamy soup. “Oh God,” she moans, closing her eyes as she swallows. My cock, however, is suddenly very enthralled by the innocent sounds she’s making, which only reminds it of what she sounded like coming on said cock.
It’s like heaven and hell all wrapped up in one.
With my hip propped against the counter, I watch in odd fascination as she devours her soup. She’s not messy or gross about it, just takes big bites, as if she knows she’ll be interrupted at any moment. Like warm soup is a luxury she’s not accustomed to.
Realizing I’m staring, I grab the second BLT and take it to her, setting it on the table beside the almost-empty soup container. Ashtyn glances at the package before slowly opening it to reveal the sandwich inside. I pop an onion ring into my mouth and say, “Soup is an odd choice for summer, isn’t it?”
Ashtyn takes a bite of her sandwich and chews. When she swallows, she replies, “I could eat soup year-round. It’s my favorite.” She doesn’t even glance up as she’s talking, but at least she doesn’t seem as hostile.
I carefully open up my own sandwich and take a hearty bite of bacon, lettuce, and tomato on whole wheat. No, a BLT isn’t my favorite, but when Alex ordered it for his sister, it sounded damn good. When was the last time I had one? Two, three years? Probably longer. My parents used to make them for lunch on Sundays when I was growing up, and it was always one of my preferred meals.
I spy the veggies on the counter once more. “Do you have a garden?” I ask between bites.
Ashtyn shakes her head. “No. One of my regulars at the library has a greenhouse and grows things year-round. He brought those over to me yesterday.”
He.
Something prickles at the base of my neck. Annoyance, maybe? Who is this guy and why is he delivering food to her house? How does he know where she lives, and what about the baby? A weird sensation blooms in my chest. Something foreign. I haven’t felt it since…well, ever, maybe.
Jealousy.
It burns deep and spreads like fire.
Before I can stop myself, I ask, “You have a male friend who delivers vegetables to your home? Do you regularly give out your address to random men?”
She glances up, her beautiful brown eyes wide from my insinuation. “Yes, actually, I do, not that it’s any of your business. Gary is seventy-two and lost his wife a few months ago. She loved to garden, which is why he has a small greenhouse. He’s trying to keep it going in her memory.”
My heart starts to settle from its rapid beat, and I keep myself occupied with finishing my sandwich. The moment the wrapper is balled up and tossed in the trash, I turn my attention back to her. Her soup is gone, and only a few bites remain of her BLT. I make myself at home, grabbing three glasses from the cabinet, and filling them up with water. I set one down in front of her, and she eyes it warily as if it might jump up and bite her.
Finally, when I settle back against the counter, I ask one of the many burning questions bouncing around in my head. “What’s his name?”
She glances up, confusion written all over her face. “Gary, I told you that.”
A smile cracks across my lips. “Not Gary, Sweetness. Your son.”
Her face freezes in horror as if she doesn’t want to talk about it. It’s a cross between irritation and disbelief, like before, when she saw me standing on her front lawn. Ashtyn clears her throat and swallows hard. “Rowan. Rowan Alexander Harris.”
“He’s named after your brother,” I respond in observation.
She nods. “Yes.”
Our eyes meet and we just stare at each other. There’s so much to say, so many questions to ask and get answered, yet all I want to do is kiss those lips. Even if it’s true, if Rowan is my son and she’s kept it from me, I still want to take her in my arms and hold her.
Why?
I should be outraged. I should be pissed the fuck off she didn’t tell me about him. I should grab my phone and call my lawyer. I always wondered what I’d do if one of these damn fake pregnancy claims actually turned out to be true. I’ve never seen myself as a father, at all, but right now, if Rowan is my son, I want to hold him too and learn how to care for him. I’ve gone to great lengths to make sure I’m protected from the very issue, yet here I am with the prospect of having a child, and suddenly, it’s not as terrifying as I expected it to be.
Because of Ashtyn.
Even though I should have kept my paws off my oldest friend’s tw
in sister, I’m wildly attracted to her and feel oddly settled when she’s near. Crazy, right? I can probably count on one hand how many times I’ve been around her. We didn’t go to the same college, and her school visits were usually short. She stayed with her parents at a hotel, saw a football game, and went to dinner with them after. I, on the other hand, went out after a game. There was always a party to attend, always a group of girls ready to spend a little time with the quarterback.
Now, all I want to do is sit beside her. She’s tired and stressed, and I wonder what I can do to help her situation. A situation she doesn’t want me to be involved in, but still. If Rowan is my son, I want to step up and do what’s right.
Alex is going to be so fucking pissed.
“Ash,” I whisper, taking a few steps over to the table where she sits. Her eyes widen as I approach, but she doesn’t say anything as I pull out the chair beside her and sit. I keep my voice low so her brother can’t hear. “Who’s Rowan’s father?”
Fire shoots from her eyes. No, not literally, but if that could happen, I would have been burned by the flames. “Funny, you’re still denying responsibility.”
My heart stops beating. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Did she just…did she just say what I think she did?
She stands up, her chair scraping loudly on the floor as it slides backward. She pins me with a look that would make a weaker man tremble, but for some crazy reason, makes me excited. “Go to hell, Tate Steele.”
Chapter Four
Ashtyn
Ugh, I know it’s not appropriate to punch people, but I could seriously deck this guy in the face. Who does he think he is? I told him who the father is—that he was the father—months ago. He denied it and basically told me to go away. That was after he ignored my first message.