Brooding Rebel to Baby Daddy

by Ally Blake

  People cheered a little more, clapping and catcalling, before they eventually moved on. The cars beckoning their attention.

  “You taste like cinnamon,” Rafe said eons later.

  “And cloves,” said Sable, in between kisses she now rained over his cheeks, his jaw, his neck. “And pepper. And pumpkin. And vodka.”

  He shook his head. “Ah, Pumpkin Festival. You do bring out the crazy.”

  Right on cue, a cheer split the air. Sable tipped her head to follow the sound. A tunnel of people in the Mustang aisle whooped and clapped. And between them came flashes of bare skin as Carleen McGlinty ran stark naked through the crowd.

  “No two guesses as to who else has been into the vodka,” said Rafe on a laugh, pulling her deeper into his arms.

  Sable grinned. Lifted her other leg to drape it over Rafe’s. And settled in. The groans and creaks of the metal no longer a concern.

  If this car fell apart, they had others. One of the benefits of being with a brilliant car restorer.

  Feeling as light as air, Sable breathed in the colour all around her. The lush green of the grass, the purple of the mountain peeking out over the bursts of oranges and reds and rich autumnal brown of the trees. Above it all the sky—light and bright, a soft velvety blue peppered with tufts of fluffy white clouds.

  And then there was Rafe, the hot, dark, solid presence beside her.

  Smiling, with every inch of her body, she breathed out fully, and closed her eyes.

  Feeling safe, and happy, and home.

  EPILOGUE

  SABLE STEPPED OUT through the front door of The Barn, tucked her light summer wrap around her nightie, and curled her toes into the warm wood of the new deck beneath her feet.

  The sky above was a clear blue dome. Mount Splendour covered in the green of fresh spring growth. The air was cool but by midday it would be scorching.

  Sensing movement, Sable found Rafe standing over a pile of dried wood, T-shirt dripping in sweat as he chopped the logs for next winter. The new fireplaces they’d put in the lounge and the sitting room when they’d converted The Barn into a home were possibly her favourite additions.

  Well, that and the nursery.

  Feet bare, she padded over the lush green grass outside their back door. As often happened when she came within touching distance of Rafe, she felt the world shimmer around her.

  She reached for him, wrapping her arms around his waist, laying a kiss on his shoulder, tucking her head into the warmth of his back. A vision flashed inside her head, a memory of another such moment, or a wish she’d once had. Then it was gone. Reality being so much better.

  And the air kept on shimmering, with the warm buzz of coming summer.

  “Good morning.” Rafe’s voice hummed through his back into her ear.

  “Isn’t it?”

  “Eaten yet?”

  “I just woke up. What time is it?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Sable smiled, and felt it blossom through her. “Not a jot.”

  Rafe was in town for a few days, with a big old Cadillac to keep him busy and a wife who had plans to keep him busier again. Mercy and Stan would be coming over for lunch, but not for a few hours yet.

  “You looked too peaceful all tucked up in bed,” said Rafe. “Snoring away.”

  “I don’t snore.”

  “You didn’t snore. Since munchkin came on the scene, it’s another story.”

  Sable glared at him as she tried to see if he was kidding. Then—

  “Oh!” she said, her hand moving to her growing belly.

  “Sutton?” Rafe spun to face her. Throwing the axe aside. Dark eyes worried, before his gaze dropped to her hand. “What’s wrong?”

  “I keep telling you, don’t call me Sutton. It’s Thorne now.”

  “Hell, woman, you’re as bad as your mother.”

  She went to glare at him when... “There!” she said, grabbing his hand and laying it under hers. “Wait for it.”

  She felt it again. Like bubbles popping.

  Rafe’s eyebrow kicked north. “You snore. And now you have gas. If I’d known this was how things were going to be—”

  “Shush, you big doofus. It’s a kick. Those bubbly feelings, that’s the baby kicking.”

  Rafe’s eyes grew comically wide, before his gaze dropped once more to her belly. Then he dropped to his knees, jeans sinking into the dewy ground. His hand moving a little to the left so he could rest his ear against her belly. His other hand wrapped around her wrist, the one sporting her arrow bracelet, his thumb running over the thin charm.

  They stood there, the morning sun filtering over them, their land beneath their feet, pollen floating on the warm air, birdsong wafting to them from the copse of trees giving them privacy from Janie’s Airstream—

  Bubbles! One after the other.

  Their eyes met. And they laughed as one.

  Before Rafe pressed to his feet, and kissed her long and hard. Basking in the surety that their baby, their little girl—or boy—was happily, healthily moving around inside Sable’s womb.

  For all their big plans it had taken them a full year to fall pregnant.

  Which was, actually, pretty perfect. As it had given them a whole year to find their new normal.

  Sable liked to sleep in—heading out into the wilderness in the afternoon light, to find angles and damage and regrowth to photograph.

  Rafe was up before the birds, answering correspondence from all over the world as his reputation grew and opportunities bloomed. When he travelled in search of cars that needed tending, needed care, it was with alacrity, making time to check in several times a day. Sable liked him checking in.

  And together they’d converted The Barn into a warm, spacious, two-storey space, filled with homey rugs and plush furniture.

  There was an art studio bathed in natural light, and a five-car garage in which to keep Rafe’s most precious cars, and one VW Beetle—newly panel-beaten, freshly painted in a deep rich glossy black. They’d kept the stairs leading to the loft.

  “You know that envelope the doctor gave us?”

  Rafe didn’t have to ask which one. He drew himself back to his feet, a hand still on her belly. “What about it?”

  “I reckon we should open it.”

  Rafe had wanted to know the gender, Sable had not. Having witnessed such impasses many times over, the doctor had gently suggested writing down the answer and popping it in an envelope. Just in case.

  But here, now, with Rafe holding her with such tenderness, such strength and solidity, Sable knew she would give him anything he ever wanted. No questions asked. No strings.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, dark eyes gleaming with such hope it made her laugh. “Because I can wait.”

  “Come on.” Sable took him by the hand and led him back towards the house.

  The envelope was currently attached to their fridge with a magnet Mercy had made. Sable’s mother was trying out all kinds of creative endeavours these days. Sketching. Ceramics. Silversmithing. It was odd. But lovely. Softening. But if the baby ever called her anything but Mercy, there’d be hell to pay.

  Sable took the envelope from the fridge and handed it to Rafe. “You do the honours.”

  Breathing deep, his big chest rising and falling with emotion, Rafe gently tore the lip of the sealed paper.

  “So,” Sable said, “if it’s a girl, Mercy, if it’s a boy, Stan?”

  “Not for all the oil in the Middle East.”

  “Carleen or Bear?”

  Rafe shot her a look that made her knees go weak.

  Sable grinned and said, “Fine.”

  “I don’t trust that word a jot.”

  “Mmm. Smart man. You ready for this?”

  “Hell, yeah. But are you?”

  “More than ready.”<
br />
  She leaned over and placed a kiss on Rafe’s beautiful mouth. The kiss deepened near as soon as it began. She hooked her fingers into the front of his sweaty T-shirt, the scent of him, the taste of him, filling her senses until she was drunk with it.

  Rafe groaned as he pulled her into him.

  In the back of her mind Sable heard the sound of paper hitting the floor. The envelope. The news inside it unread.

  The baby’s gender... They’d get to that.

  They had time.

  All the time in the world.

  * * *

  If you enjoyed this story, check out these other great reads from Ally Blake

  Crazy About Her Impossible Boss

  A Week with the Best Man

  Hired by the Mysterious Millionaire

  Amber and the Rogue Prince

  All available now!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Unlocking the Tycoon’s Heart by Ella Hayes.

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  Unlocking the Tycoon’s Heart

  by Ella Hayes

  CHAPTER ONE

  ‘A SIGNALLING FAULT?’ Mia’s heart caved. She turned away from her laptop, swapped the phone to her other ear. ‘Bloody hell, Ash! Have they said how long?’

  ‘No...but I’ve got a bad feeling...’

  She glanced at her watch. One-fifteen! No wonder her brother sounded tense. After an early-morning business meeting in Kent, he was now stranded on a train on the outskirts of London when he was supposed to be on his way to a two o’clock meeting with Theo Molenaar—in the city centre!

  The opportunity to pitch to the CEO of Dutch IT giant MolTec was a massive deal for Ash. If the pitch was successful, it would boost his software development business into the stratosphere, and after everything he’d been through with Harold Kogan it was a boost he sorely needed.

  Cheating Hal!

  Mia pushed away her pain and refocused. Ash needed solutions, not regrets.

  ‘I know... What about offering to meet Molenaar in Amsterdam on Monday?’ She tried to sound upbeat. ‘Come back with me on Friday! Stay the weekend! It’s ages since you’ve been over and... Cleuso misses you.’

  ‘Cleuso’s the stupidest cat alive! He wouldn’t recognise me if he fell over me which, let’s face it, is quite likely.’

  She stifled a chuckle. ‘That’s harsh.’

  ‘The truth often is. We both know that.’

  Mia’s momentary lightness evaporated. ‘Halgate’ had blown up eighteen months before but the bitterness lingered. She could hear it in Ash’s voice, could still taste it in the back of her own throat.

  Ash had thought that Hal Kogan was going to be the perfect business partner, and she’d thought so too. Smart, articulate Hal—full of energy and confidence. He could hold a room, steer a conversation, handle people without them knowing they were being handled. In business, he was magnetic. In private, he was irresistible. When he’d trapped her in his steady blue gaze, she hadn’t wanted to free herself. He’d filled a space in her heart, and after everything she and Ash had been through it had felt like destiny: Ash and Hal building a business; Mia and Hal building a life. They were a little family. Perhaps she’d wanted it so much that she hadn’t been able to see anything else. Guilt squirmed inside her belly. Perhaps she hadn’t wanted to see it.

  ‘Besides,’ Ash was saying, ‘much as I’d love to come to Amsterdam and share a cramped cabin with Clueless, Monday’s no good for Molenaar. He’ll be in the States by then. This was the only window he had... Hang on! They’re saying something...’

  Through the earpiece, Mia could hear a crackly announcement playing over the speaker in her brother’s carriage. She held her breath.

  ‘Up to an hour’s delay... Damn it! I’m going to have to cancel.’

  The anguish in his voice was tearing her apart.

  ‘No! You need this. There has to be a way...’ She eyed her laptop. ‘I’m putting you on speaker, okay?’ She propped the phone against her coffee mug and typed ‘Theo Molenaar’ into the search bar. The screen filled with MolTec stuff: bulletins and business reports. Nothing about the man, until...

  MOLENAAR HAS HIS EYE TO THE TELESCOPE!

  She clicked the link and scanned the article, waiting for words to jump out: pioneering IT solutions; environmental interests; satellites; black holes; the expanding cosmos.

  ‘Bingo! Molenaar’s a star-gazer.’ She retrieved the phone. ‘He’s into astronomy.’

  ‘And that helps how?’

  ‘I’m not sure... Let me think...’ She got to her feet, drifted to the window. A white van was parked in the mews. Southeast Satellite & Broadband Services was written on the side of it in big purple letters. In her head the words clustered around the grain of an idea. ‘Ash, you’re coming in from the south east, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘The observatory’s in Greenwich.’

  ‘So?’

  She felt a smile coming. ‘Tell Molenaar you’ve been delayed but can make it to the planetarium in an hour. If he meets you there it’ll save both of you a lot of time and, if you are held up for longer, then at least he’s in his happy place among the stars. Everybody wins.’

  ‘For pity’s sake, Mia—you’re talking about the CEO of MolTec! I can’t ask him to trek across London on my account. I’ll just have to postpone.’

  Something inside her snapped. ‘No! I’m not letting you do that, not for the sake of one little hour.’ Her mind was racing. If she could deliver Theo Molenaar to the planetarium, give Ash his chance with MolTec, maybe that could be her atonement. Atonement for blindly believing that Hal had funded all their fancy trips to Paris, Prague and Berlin with an unexpected bequest from a distant relative.

  ‘I’ll meet him.’ She hurried into the hall and started pulling on her jacket. ‘I’ll make him see that going to Greenwich makes perfect sense.’

  ‘Mia, you can’t. He’ll think it’s weird.’

  ‘Maybe.’ She pushed her feet into some shoes, grabbed her bag. ‘Or maybe he’ll think it’s a...creative solution!’

  ‘It’s certainly creative.’ The smile she could hear in his voice faded to a sigh. ‘You’re crazy, you know that?’

  She opened the door, squinted into the city sunshine. ‘But you still love me, right?’

  ‘Always.’

  She smiled, then rummaged for her sunglasses and slipped them on. ‘Now, tell me where Molenaar’s staying, then get yourself to the planetarium.’

  * * *

  She preferred these small, boutique hotels to the generic glamour of the bigger five-star places. The reception lobby of this one was particularly nice. It had a cosy vibe—quirky art on the walls, comfy-looking sofas upholstered in dense fabric. If Molenaar felt at home in this hotel, it meant he wasn’t flashy. She liked that.

  A desk clerk in a blue shirt looked up as she approached. ‘Hello. Can I help you?’

  ‘I have a meeting with one of your guests.’ She smiled. ‘Theo Molenaar.’

  ‘Your name, please?’

  She paused for a beat. ‘Ashley Boelens.’ There’d be time for explanations later.

  The man nodded and stabbed an extension code into the phone.

  She drew in a slow breath, trying to quash the tremble that had just started in her knees. Hatching a plan to help Ash was all very well, but there was no getting away from it: Molenaar was expecting a business meeting, not an impromptu jaunt to Greenwich. He might be offended. Or dismissive. Maybe this wouldn’t help at all. Maybe she was messing everything up...

  There was a little throat-clearing noise. The desk c
lerk was looking at her, his eyebrows slightly arched. ‘Mr Molenaar will be down in a moment. Please take a seat.’

  In the seating area, she lowered herself onto a sofa, pulling her bag onto her lap. Mr Molenaar... A knot tightened in her stomach. She didn’t know what he looked like—or how old he was. There’d been no pictures with the article she’d read and in her five years as a features writer she hadn’t come across him. Of course, since she didn’t write about tech or astronomy, that was hardly surprising. She shifted on the sofa, running her fingers through her fringe. If she could just switch off her stupid nerves she’d be fine, but her nerves seemed to have developed a mind of their own and they were jangling chaotically.

  She glanced at the lift doors and saw the floor numbers flashing...counting down. He was on his way!

  She straightened her spine and lifted her chin, suddenly noticing the bulky weight of the bag in her lap. Lotte would be laughing at her: Mia! You look like Mary Poppins! Hurriedly, she turfed it onto the sofa, but her phone spilled out along with a lipstick and two pens. Frantically she raked them back inside, yanked the zip shut and then she looked up.

  Blink! Breathe!

  A thirty-something gorgeous man was standing in front of the closing doors looking right at her. He was tall, clean-shaven. His dark-blond collar-length hair was swept back from his forehead, so it was easy to see his brow furrowing as he gazed over. And then his eyes moved on, sweeping the lobby, clearly looking for the real Ash Boelens.

  She knew she ought to go over and introduce herself, but for some reason she couldn’t move. Why couldn’t he have been much older or at the very least a stereotypical computer geek? What she’d come here to do was audacious enough without having to contend with Molenaar’s movie star looks.

  Helplessly, she watched him go over to the desk, exchange words with the clerk, and then he was turning, looking at her again.

  Breathe.