Breaking Even (The Sterling Shore Series #5)

by C. M. Owens

  “It’s fine, Rye. Honestly. You’re right. We’re not right for each other.”

  That just pisses me off.

  “What the hell is wrong with her? You don’t think she’s good enough? Because she—”

  “Whoa!” he says laughing, holding his hands up for me to stop. “First of all, put your fangs away. Secondly, I didn’t mean anything bad by that. She’s cute and sweet, but we have nothing in common, and there was mostly heavy uncomfortable silence between us the entire time we tried to talk.”

  “That’s because you were too busy staring at your phone instead of paying her any attention. She’s easy as fuck to talk to.”

  His grin only grows. “I’m sure you’re right. Anyway, I’ve sort of got some shit of my own going on right now. And dating isn’t exactly on the agenda. Turns out... I’m a father.”

  I think my jaw just hit the floor. What. The. Hell?

  His grin is gone as the weight of the world settles into every feature he has.

  “When the hell did Erica have a child?” I ask in a rasp whisper. Am I that oblivious to the world around me?

  He lets go a sad, bitter laugh while shaking his head. “Erica didn’t have a kid. This kid is six-years-old. I met the mom long before Erica and I got together, and I had a one-night stand. I used a condom, but... apparently shit happens. Condom broke, and I didn’t even remember our night together until she said something about it.”

  I can barely breathe, so I can only assume he’s suffocating.

  “Damn. And you’re sure? That’s it’s yours, I mean.”

  He nods slowly, his eyes cast downward as he struggles to digest it all.

  “Yeah, it’s legit. I have a daughter. Just got the results back from the paternity test yesterday. That’s why I left, and that’s why I was texting. My lawyer has been working hard on this. I seriously have a daughter named Angel.”

  Still a little in shock, I ask, “Is she living here?”

  “Yeah. The mom’s name is Allie. I met her one of the times I was in Cancun. Turns out she was living four hours from here, and moved here to be with one of her friends. Now she’s a nurse at Sterling Memorial. She wasn’t sure about telling me, but the kid kept asking about a father, and then we literally ran into each other at the grocery store. She took it as a sign that she needed to do the right thing.”

  Holy shit. “And she didn’t think to do the right thing years ago?”

  He frowns as he leans over and rests his elbows on the desk. “It was a one-night stand. She didn’t know my last name. She only came to Sterling Shore to meet me once she saw me in a magazine article with Tag. She started to call me several times and kept chickening out.

  “But she ended up landing a good job at the hospital, and now she’s living here. She’s been trying to find the courage to approach me for the past three months. I want to know my kid, but she’s made it clear that I’m not allowed to give her money or see her outside of Angel. Apparently I was a major asshole to her that night. It was a bad year for me, and I fucked her and walked away. I don’t really blame her for not being too happy with me.

  “I begged Ash not to set that date up with Brin last night, but you know how pushy she is. Tag hasn’t told her what’s going on, so she didn’t know any better. Then I felt like a jerk for being such a horrible date, and I wanted to make it up to her by asking her out on another date. But the truth is, I’m seriously not in a place to date right now.”

  I can’t blame him for that. Hell. That’s wild.

  “Sorry, man. I wish I knew what to do.”

  He blows out a harsh breath as his hands shake. I don’t know how he’s holding it together. “Allie is going to let me meet Angel eventually, but it might take a month or two. She wants to ease her into the transition. A month. I might have to wait an entire month to meet her. My lawyer says he can make sure I see her within a week. But Allie is already terrified of me using my money and influence against her.

  “I’m afraid if I push her too fast, she’ll flee and I’ll never get the chance to know my daughter. So I’m playing this her way. She wants time, so I’ll give her a little time. In the meantime, Tag’s helping me get my house ready for a kid. There’s a lot of shit to being a dad, and I’m honestly freaking the fuck out a little.”

  “I’d be freaking the fuck out a lot,” I murmur, reaching under the desk and pulling out the bottle of whiskey to hand him.

  He raises and shakes his hand in one motion, refusing the alcohol. “I have to go to Mom’s right now. She still doesn’t know. I’m about to break the news to her, and hope she doesn’t beat the hell out of me. I can’t believe I didn’t give her my last name. Hell, I think she said I lied about what it was.”

  That doesn’t sound like Wren at all. But we all do stupid shit from time to time. Just turns out that his one time being shitty ended up altering his life. Now he’s missed six years of his kid’s life.

  “If you need me or just need someone to get shit-faced with, you know I’m here.”

  He laughs sadly while scrubbing his face with his hands. “I might take you up on that offer real damn soon. Tell Brin I’m sorry, but don’t tell her why.”

  I wave him off like he’s ridiculous for even thinking I’d share that. But Brin is going to think this had something to do with her.

  “I’ll take care of it. You just worry about you and your kid right now.”

  He sighs hard. “That sounds so strange. My kid. Erica wanted kids and I told her no. Not because I didn’t want them, but because she and I were never going to last, and I knew it before I married her. I’m so stupid. Who marries someone they don’t even really want to be with? Am I really ready for a kid right now? What if I fuck her up?”

  I’m the worst possible person for this conversation. I’ve never even had a serious relationship. A kid? I don’t know the first thing about this.

  “Wren, you’re the most level-headed, mature, and grounded one of us. You’ll be an excellent father.”

  He smiles, and I mentally pat myself on the back. Good. I said the right thing. And I believe that he will be a good dad.

  “I need to go, but I’ll catch up with you later.”

  I nod as he stands, and then I reach for my phone. It’s rare that I spend a Sunday night at home—since I enjoy living instead of being a recluse—but tonight I’ll make an exception. I have a ton of shit here to do, but there will be one girl who has a major complex if I don’t head over now.

  And I can’t show up empty handed.

  ***

  BRIN

  “You sure you don’t want us to come hang out with you?” Maggie asks over the phone as I flip aimlessly through the channels.

  Why isn’t there ever anything on when I try to watch TV?

  “I’m beyond positive. You two are in a new relationship, so you’ll constantly be saying disgustingly sweet things and making out. It’ll make me sick with envy. Go. Have fun. I’m a big girl.”

  She sighs as though she doesn’t want to relent, but she does. “Fine. But don’t sit at home in your pajamas. Go out and have fun. See if Rye is busy.”

  That’s hilarious. I doubt very seriously Rye Clanton has nothing to do. I’m positive he doesn’t want to hang out with me. The blonde on his arm yesterday is probably over her moment of anger, and now she’ll be in his bed.

  I hate men.

  I decide not to say anything and just hang up. Tria sends me a text asking if I want her to come over. Apparently she heard Wren cancelled as well. Sheesh. It’s not like he broke my damn heart.

  I send her a quick no, and resume my boring night. After ten more minutes of finding nothing on TV, I stand up, still wearing my pink hearts boxers and smurf T-shirt, and head to the kitchen.

  The great thing about staying at home instead of going out on a date is the fact that I don’t have to match my clothes or care if my hair is pulled back in a ponytail. And I can eat junk food while drinking whatever I want instead of the proper wine that goes with my
uppity dish.

  Beer it is.

  Just as I get settled back on the sofa with a bag of marshmallows and my beer, someone knocks at the door. Damn. Can’t I just get a little peace?

  “No war tonight,” I say, knowing damn well no one else would be knocking. It sounds more like he’s kicking the door rather than knocking.

  “No war tonight. Let me in. I have food.”

  Food? Why does he have food?

  I jog over to the window and look out, making sure there’s no trick behind the door. Sure enough, he’s holding a pizza box with several large bags on top, which explains the kicking. But what’s going on?

  When I open the door, he blows out an exasperated breath. “Finally. Move.”

  I follow behind him as he starts unloading the numerous cartons of food onto my coffee table.

  “What’s this?” I ask, motioning to his ungodly amount of takeout.

  “Food.”

  “For the entire neighborhood?” I ask incredulously.

  “I don’t have your number, and I had no idea what you would want, so I grabbed Chinese, pizza, sushi, vegan shit, and Thai food. Pick something and eat it,” he answers while pulling out a DVD.

  “I’ll pass on the vegan shit,” I say with a small grin.

  He snickers while popping open the DVD case.

  “And that?” I ask, admittedly amused when I see the cover of the movie—Batman. Is he making sure I’m fully stocked for my night in?

  “I refuse to watch a chick flick, but I have a big ass selection of movies. I just grabbed one. Sit. Watch. Eat.”

  Bossy.

  “You’re watching a movie with me?”

  “Yep. And then we’ll discuss you taking better care of your car. It’s probably a good thing that you ran all over me.”

  I frown as I reach down for a slice of pizza, and then I tilt my head. What if he has put laxatives all over this thing? I wouldn’t put it past him.

  “What’s wrong with my car? Other than the smashed rear, obviously.”

  He comes to sit down beside me on the couch as the movie starts. An alien movie? Really? That is so not what the box said it was. Batman sounded much, much better.

  “Everything,” he grumbles, sounding annoyed.

  “You don’t have to stay. It’s obvious you’re cranky. I know you have better things to do than to hang out with me just because my date fell through.”

  He glares at me as though I’ve said something wrong. “I’m cranky because you had no brakes, what little bit of oil you had was disgusting, and your tires have wires sticking through the bald slicks. It’s careless and dangerous. Especially when you live right across from a mechanic.”

  I bite back a grin when his ugly scowl grows. He’s pretty frigging cute when he’s pissed.

  “Sorry. John usually took care of that stuff. It’s about all he was good for. Before that, my dad did it. I just... I didn’t really think about it,” I murmur absently, pulling the piece of pizza up to inspect it a little closer. It looks harmless enough, but I reserve the right to be suspicious, considering Rye is the one who brought it.

  When I look back at him, his expression has changed. “Who’s John?”

  I shrug at his question, focusing the majority of my attention on my level of courage. To eat the pizza, or not to eat the pizza; that is the question.

  “My ex-husband.”

  He coughs as he chokes on nothing but air, and I give him a quizzical look while mocking offense.

  “Is it so preposterous that someone would marry me?”

  He slaps his chest as he tries to catch a clean breath, and it takes a concentrated amount of effort not to laugh at him.

  “Just... I didn’t... You’re so young. You’ve been married?”

  “I’m no younger than Ash. Hell, she’s younger than I am. I’m twenty-six. We got married right out of high school.” The second he groans, I roll my eyes and add, “Cliché, I know. But everything is romanticized to the nth degree when you’re eighteen. Sometimes people find the real stuff that young. Sometimes they get the watered down generic version. I had the latter of the two.”

  He leans back as the movie plays, and I keep the pizza just far enough away to tease my lips. It’s just too risky to take a bite without knowing if he’s done anything to it or not.

  “How long ago did it end?” he asks.

  I wasn’t expecting him to ask that, and much to my surprise, I grin. “The day I ran all over your car was exactly one year.”

  His mouth forms an “O” and he half laughs. “Makes sense. Doesn’t mean I’m going to go easy on you. I still owe you for the damn air freshener ambush.”

  I chuckle lightly while putting the pizza in front of his mouth. “Take a bite.”

  “Why?” he asks skeptically, arching an eyebrow at me.

  “Because I don’t trust you.”

  He thinks about that for a second, tilting his head as though he’s weighing that answer. “Fair enough.” He bites into the pizza, and I breathe out in relief. I’m starving.

  “Got anything to drink?” he asks with a mouthful, digging through some of the other choices.

  “Beer,” I say with a one-shoulder shrug while standing.

  “Beer works.”

  After leaving him and grabbing us both a beer, I return to see him eating out of a Chinese carton, his chopsticks holding noodles as he watches the gory movie. While he’s distracted, I eat the bite he has suspended in the air, and he gives me an I-know-you-didn’t-just-do-that look.

  “I was about to eat that,” he mutters dryly.

  “I know. That’s how I knew it was safe to eat.”

  He rolls his eyes and resumes eating, and I just watch him for a minute. He really isn’t anything like I thought he was.

  ***

  BRIN

  “No,” he groans, trying to back away from me as I force myself on him.

  “Please,” I beg, almost whimpering.

  “Damn it, no! I refuse. I can’t. I’m already going to regret all you’ve made me take.”

  I straddle him, giving him my best pleading eyes, and he actually laughs at me.

  “Hell no. It’s not happening. You’ll just have to do it yourself.”

  “That’s not going to happen. You have to do it first.”

  He laughs harder, shaking his head as though he’s dealing with a crazy person. I’m not crazy yet, but I will be if he keeps denying me.

  “I’m too full to take another bite. If you want to eat the damn cheesecake, you’re going to have to take a leap of faith. I’m. Not. Eating. Any.”

  I sigh wistfully, looking longingly at the forkful of cheesecake that I’ve been trying to jab into his mouth for five minutes. “Then it must be poisoned.”

  He continues chuckling as he lies back on my couch, and I do all I can to ignore the very intimate position I’ve ended up in. Crap. I’m sitting right on top of his crotch and he’s lying back, watching late-night TV like it’s riveting stuff. It’d be stupid to act like I can feel the erection he has and make this awkward, but oh my damn, it feels so good.

  I have to be at work early, and it’s already after eleven, but I refuse to let him go home. This has been too much fun. We’ve eaten entirely too much, watched a couple of terrible movies, and now I really want a bite of this cheesecake. Why does he insist on making me beg?

  He’s acting as though this seating arrangement isn’t bothering him, which pisses me off. I’m a frustrated ball of hormones now. It’s really not fair.

  I should have changed out of my mismatched wardrobe, but that might have made things... obvious and weird.

  Of course, straddling him is probably making things weird, too.

  “Please,” I say one last time, jutting my lip out in an exaggerated pout that makes him laugh again.

  His hands come to rest on the fronts of my thighs as he sighs. “Fine. Last damn thing I’m eating for you.”

  I grin happily and put the forkful of cheesecake in his mout
h. He swallows and opens his mouth for me to see that the food is harmless, and I quickly dive into the cheesecake, not bothering to move off him.

  Maybe I can get away with it for a minute longer, because he feels really good under me. And it’s been so long since I’ve felt anything even remotely close.

  Each hard line of his abs or chest is very easy to feel through his thin shirt—not that I’ve been finding ways to rub against him all night. Fine. So maybe I have been finding ways to rub against him all night. I’m only human.

  The muscles on his arms are definitely distracting, and his hipbones have those sexy little lines I want to touch. His shirt keeps riding up, teasing the hell out of me.

  The door flies open, and Maggie stumbles to a halt in the doorway. Her eyes widen at first, and then a slow, pleased grin spreads across her face.

  “I’ll come back later,” she says, and that’s when I tense.

  “It’s your house, Maggie,” Rye says from under me, taking a sip of his beer. “I’m about to go. Then she’s all yours.”

  “She’s not my type, so take your time,” Maggie chirps, giving me her best mischievous grin before walking in the rest of the way and shutting the door. She heads to her room without another word, and I look down to see Rye grinning.

  “I think she got the wrong idea,” I mumble, ready to throttle my best friend.

  “Probably because you’re straddling me in a pair of pink boxers.”

  My face floods red, but I do my best to hold my composure. “Probably,” I murmur, casually unraveling myself from him as I stand up. Crap.

  “I need to get home. I have some invoices to log before I crash. Long day for me tomorrow,” he says while standing.

  Then he slaps my ass and shocks the hell out of me. “I’ll see you tomorrow. The war will resume.”

  “War on. But next time only get cheesecake,” I joke, knowing there won’t be a next time most likely.

  “Next time I’m bringing two slices of pizza and that’s it.” He slides his shoes back on, and rubs his sexy set of abs that are hiding beneath the thin black shirt, but it’s hard to look away from the hard ridge behind his zipper. “I won’t be able to walk tomorrow, thanks to you.”