by Naima Simone
Zeph didn’t ask him the obvious questions—Kim is pregnant? It’s yours? Why didn’t you tell us? What the fuck? And for that, Ronin was grateful. He could barely form a coherent thought, much less a sentence. His only concern was getting to the hospital.
To Kim.
“I don’t know,” Ronin answered honestly.
At that moment, Dom jogged up to them with all of Ronin’s gear. After opening his truck and throwing everything in the back seat, Ronin found himself jerked into one hard, quick embrace and then another.
“Get going,” Dom said, hitting the top of the truck as Ronin climbed into the front seat. “We’ll see you soon.”
With a nod, Ronin slammed the door, cranked the ignition, and pulled off.
And started doing something he hadn’t in at least two years.
Praying.
Chapter Twelve
“This really isn’t necessary,” Kim objected. “I can walk.”
Ronin’s arms tightened around her as he picked her up out of the passenger seat of his truck’s cab and lifted her against his chest.
“You could,” he agreed, hip-checking the door shut. He didn’t set her feet on the ground.
“I could also stay at my house,” she added.
“The doctor has you on bed rest for three days. At your place, there’s no one to take care of you. Or make sure you stay put.” He arched an eyebrow, a half smile quirking a corner of his mouth.
There’s no one to take care of you… The words both warmed her and left her a little cold inside. Warm, because he believed she should be cared for and volunteered to do it. Cold, because he was accurate. She didn’t have anyone out here. Her only family member in Seattle didn’t recognize her.
She rested her head on his shoulder. Her protests were automatic, what she felt she, as an independent, strong, I-can-take-care-of-myself woman, should say. But the truth… The truth was she didn’t want to move. After the miscarriage scare earlier in the day, the hours in the hospital, and the almost debilitating fear of losing her baby, she was past exhausted. Even walking from the driveway to the front door of his home seemed daunting.
But, at the moment, none of that mattered.
Not when she hadn’t lost the baby. The doctor had thrown terms and phrases at her such as cervical polyp, higher estrogen levels, and the increased number of blood vessels around the cervix. According to him, her recent gynecological exam or sex could’ve been the likely causes of the bleeding. She’d nodded through the explanations, but she’d grasped ahold of his one sentence: the baby is fine.
Oh God, the terror that had paralyzed her when she’d spotted the blood staining her underwear. She’d been whisked back to that awful day two years ago when she’d been so helpless, powerless as she hadn’t been able to do anything as her body rejected her child. She’d panicked, lost it. And in the midst of it, she’d called Ronin.
She would forever be thankful for his calm, comforting, but commanding presence. Especially over the phone. Only when he’d busted through the cubicle in the emergency room, his hair wild, his dark eyes even wilder, had she glimpsed the same worry and fright that had seized her. He’d remained by her side the entire time—through the exam, the waiting, and the sonogram where they’d seen for themselves that their baby was healthy and safe.
So sue her, but she didn’t want to be alone. Not tonight. Not after everything that had occurred today. Not when her emotions were still so raw.
Without her permission, her arms tightened around Ronin’s neck.
“I know I told you before, but your house is beautiful,” she murmured against his chest. And so are you. She didn’t voice that last part, but it resonated within her.
“Thanks.” He shifted the arm at her back and inserted the key he held into the front door lock. Seconds later, he entered, kicked the door closed and strode down a hallway.
She couldn’t help but remember the last time she’d been in his home. What he’d done to her against the very wall to their left. Or how he’d held her so gently in the living room he carried her past.
Ronin strode down a hallway, then paused in front of a door off the corridor, and with a quick twist, opened it and entered a room lit only by the limited reach of pale moonbeams through the huge windows. He moved easily, as if so familiar with his surroundings, he didn’t need the illumination. Moments later, her back met a wall of pillows and a firm mattress.
With a click, light flooded the room from a bedside lamp. The soft glow bathed his face, and she studied every sharp angle, hollow, and plane. God, even when she was this emotionally and physically weary, he sent a winding curl of warmth through her. The man was beautiful, and just so…male. At some point during the afternoon, he gathered his hair back into one of those “man buns.” Usually she rolled her eyes at this latest style for men, but on him, it wasn’t pretentious. Maybe because it was Ronin, it came off as more of an “I gotta get the hair off of me and out of my mouth and eyes” dilemma rather than a fashion statement. The bun and the beard together?
He was pure beauty and sex.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.
She shook her head. “Nothing. I just…” Think you could hurt me more than my ex-husband. The silent confession jarred her, and she immediately smothered it under heaps of “You’re just emotional” and “That’s hormones talking” excuses. “Thank you,” she murmured. “For everything you’ve done today.”
“What did I tell you before, hala? Anything having to do with the baby, I’m here. There’s no need to thank me,” he said, striding across to the large armoire in the far corner of the room.
Of course, she mused, staring at his wide back. The baby. She’d needed that reminder, even if it’d slapped at her a little. But that was good, too. She needed that wake-up call before she started going down the tulip-lined path of “maybes.” Maybe he does care about you, and you’re more than sex to him. Maybe this could work. Maybe you need to give this thing a try.
Did she even want all that? No. Only heartache, more bitterness, and pain waited for her. And she didn’t have just herself this time around; she had a baby that would depend on her. No, she repeated to herself. She might be starting to believe Ronin when he claimed he would be there for their child. And he didn’t seem to possess the arrogance and selfishness that Matt had, but still… This had to remain a co-parent situation only. No more sex. No more sentimental what-if lapses.
Inhaling a deep breath, she shored up her resolve, forcing herself to remember the devastation Matt had wreaked in her life, so she wouldn’t foolishly repeat the mistake of trusting someone who lived his lifestyle again.
“Here you go.” Ronin closed the door of the big dresser and turned with a piece of clothing in his hand. “My sisters sometimes stay with me. Here’s a nightshirt for you. I’ll go start a shower for you if you feel up to it.”
“I do, thanks.” She swung her legs over the edge of the mattress. “But I’m good getting back and forth to the bathroom.”
His eyebrows arrowed into a frown, and his lips parted as if he were about to argue with her. But at the last second, he nodded. “Okay.”
Taking the offered gown, she headed to the slightly ajar door across the room.
“Kim?”
She paused on the threshold, glancing back over her shoulder at him. His hooded gaze made that curl of warmth flare bright and hot in her stomach.
“I’m going to be right out here if you need me.”
Nodding, she entered the bathroom and shut the door firmly behind her.
And tried not to dwell on the all-too-vulnerable piece of her that wanted to rely on that promise, when she knew all too well that promises were good for one thing.
Being broken.
…
The next morning, Kim washed her face and brushed her teeth then emerged from the bathroom, stretching. And feeling amazed. For the first time in weeks, she hadn’t offered up a sacrifice to the porcelain gods. She’d felt a b
it of queasiness, but that’s it. Maybe the morning sickness was easing. Just in case, she better not tempt fate. Pulling on a pair of knee-high socks and a robe that Ronin had left for her on the foot of the bed, she returned to the bathroom, looked in the mirror and sighed.
Last night, after her shower, she’d been too tired to do anything with her hair, so she’d just towel-dried it and gone to bed. This morning, her natural curls and waves had taken full control. Brushing her hair would only result in the Macy Grey look, which was great for Macy, but only made her resemble a poodle. Too hungry to use the blow dryer on the sink counter, she wet her hands and dragged them through her curls. After finger-combing them, she shrugged. At least she no longer looked like she could win Best in Show.
She quickly washed her face and brushed her teeth with the new toothbrush beside the blow dryer. Ronin had really thought of everything.
Or else he has new toothbrushes on hand for the overnight guests he probably brings to his house all the time.
The flash of razor-tipped jealousy caught her by surprise. She blinked at her reflection. It wasn’t her business who he entertained or didn’t. And she didn’t care.
Un-huh. Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart. And I bet there’s a herd of unicorns prancing around in those woods out back.
Wow. Her subconscious was real bitchy this morning.
Releasing another sigh, she left the bathroom and headed across the bedroom. A hard knock reverberated against the door before it swung open, and Ronin appeared with a tray in his hands.
This morning, his long hair fell over his shoulders again, his beard thick and full. A vintage Thundercats T-shirt clung to his broad shoulders and chest, while another pair of faded jeans fell over his lean hips and hugged his powerful thighs. His bare toes peeked from beneath the tattered hem.
She tried not to stare; she really did give it a valiant try. But damn, the man rocked the lumbersexual look like he’d invented it. Especially the sexual part. After her ordeal yesterday, she really shouldn’t be thinking about his hard, hot, half-naked body pressed to hers. Or his large hands gripping her hips as he drove his cock into her over and over again. Her wayward mind was the reason why she hadn’t contacted him in days before yesterday. How could she look at him and not conjure images of him fucking her on her office desk? There had to be a way, but apparently, she hadn’t discovered it yet, because here she stood. Imagining.
It was official. She was a ho.
His eyes narrowed at her. “What are you doing out of bed?” he asked in that low, gravel-roughened voice that never failed to vibrate through her.
“I was going to get a quick glass of water,” she said. “I didn’t want to bother you.”
“Bed rest, hala.” He nodded in the direction of the aforementioned furniture. “I told you I’d take care of you. Including a drink.”
Rolling her eyes, she turned, but was unable to prevent the small smile curving her mouth. When was the last time someone had taken care of her? Matt had expected that to be her role, even though she’d worked as hard as he did. Alex probably would’ve, if she’d let him. But then again, her brother wasn’t the…nursemaid type. Well, in the past, he hadn’t been. Now, with his wife and daughter, things had changed. Still, being catered to was foreign, and while a bit uncomfortable, it was also…nice.
She climbed back under the covers, and Ronin set the tray of food on her lap. The delicious aroma teased her nose, and her stomach growled in a “Feed me!” complaint.
Ronin grinned. “Tea, toast with apple butter, turkey bacon, and banana rice pancakes.” He bowed. “You can worship my culinary prowess now.”
Snorting, she picked up her fork. “You’re a god,” she drawled.
He sighed. “It’s a curse, hala, but you’re right.” Laughing, he dropped into a big, overstuffed armchair that flanked the bed. “Tell me how the pancakes taste. I promised my mom I’d call and let her know how you like them. It’s her recipe.”
She paused, the cup of tea halfway to her mouth. “You told your mother about the baby?”
“Yeah,” he said, eyes solemn. “I had to. When you called me, Dom and Zeph overheard. If they knew, I couldn’t not tell her. I didn’t want her to find out from anyone else but me.”
Shame balled in her chest, a tight knot. It’d been selfish of her to request he not tell his family when they were all so close. She could only imagine how difficult that had been for him, but he’d acquiesced without questions.
“I—” She swallowed. Lifting her cup, she sipped the tea, needing to dampen her suddenly dry mouth. “I’m sorry for asking you to keep quiet about that. I-I had a miscarriage a couple of years ago. At sixteen weeks. I was being superstitious, I know, but I was afraid. Once I made it past that mark…” Her voice trailed off, her gaze fixed to the plate of food.
“I guessed it was something like that,” he said. She jerked her head up, meeting his dark eyes. “And there’s no reason to apologize. My mother suffered a miscarriage before she had my youngest sister. She was a little superstitious and cautious, too.” He smiled, stretching his arm out and stroking her hair in a caress that was becoming familiar to her. “She’s happy as hell, by the way. She said to tell you she’s going to burn a candle for you at Mass.”
She cocked her head to the side, surprised. “I didn’t know you were Catholic.”
Ronin snickered, snatching a piece of turkey bacon off her plate. “I’m not. And neither is she. In her words, she’s ‘trying Catholicism on for size.’”
Kim blinked. “Uh. I don’t think you can do that… Can she?”
He shrugged. “Who knows? In the last several months, my mother has been a Buddhist, a Catholic, and a Baptist. Last Friday when I drove up to the house, I saw a book on Hinduism on the kitchen table.” He smiled, but it carried a bit of sadness. “Mom found out she had stage two breast cancer in late July.”
Her stomach dipped and rolled as she shifted the tray over and reached for him. He met her halfway, his hand enclosing around hers. His love for his mother and sisters was more than obvious in the way he spoke and joked about them. And from what he’d shared with her that night in her office, his mom raised him by herself. To lose her… She squeezed his fingers.
“I’m so sorry, Ronin,” she whispered.
He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to the backs of her knuckles. “Eat.” He dipped his head in the direction of her tray, then released her. Part of her wanted to hold him, offer the same comfort he so selflessly offered her, but he watched her, arms crossed, waiting until she returned her attention to the tray. Only when she bit into the toast did he continue. “She’s doing better now. Between the chemo and surgery, the doctors believe she beat it. But it’s been tough. I believe experimenting with all these different religions has been one way of her coping.” He snorted. “Hana says she’s covering her bases.”
Kim choked on her toast, coughing. “Okay, that’s awful.” And she could easily envision the petite fireball of a woman she’d met at the expo saying that. “I think it’s wonderful that you’re so close to your family. You told me your father walked out on you as a child, but it sounds like your mother more than made up for him.” She frowned, staring at the slice of bread. Sometimes it was for the best…
“You’re thinking of the asshat who came to your office the other night?”
She jerked her head up, blinking at him. Asshat. The corner of her mouth tilted up. The description was pretty accurate. “Actually, yes,” she admitted.
He snorted. “How did you end up working with him, anyway? That can’t be comfortable.”
She lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “Usually, it’s not an issue. My brother hired me, of course. Malcolm—my father—is based in the New York offices of Bishop Enterprises, and I was in Boston. He’s here in Seattle of his own accord to make sure I don’t fuck up the rebranding of the Grand, which was originally his acquisition for the company. I imagine it’s sticking him in a couple of uncomfortable places that I
’m the one handling it. Especially since he’s convinced I only have my job because of nepotism.”
Ronin grunted, shaking his head. “Like I said. Asshat,” he growled.
Chuckling, and warmed by his show of support for her, she tried the pancakes and moaned, closing her eyes at the sweet flavor. “Oh my God, these are delicious.” She lifted her lashes and glanced at him. “Tell your—”
The words died on her tongue, her throat closing. Ronin stared at her mouth, an expression of such hunger on his face, her heart thumped in her throat, and desire snapped to life inside her.
“Ronin,” she whispered.
His hooded gaze shifted to meet hers, and she released a trembling breath, unable to say more.
“I forgot to get you a napkin. Be right back,” he rumbled, standing and striding from the room.
She could do nothing but stare after him, shocked by the heat in his eyes and the sweep of arousal it ignited in her. For a crazy moment, she’d wanted to flip back the covers and invite him in next to her—inside her. Christ, the man was dangerous not just to her libido, but to her resolve. Ronin made her want so much. She was here because of the baby. Because they had a vested interest in the child she carried. Not because of an insane attraction that generated enough heat to make the Chicago Fire of 1871 look like a campfire.
Oh damn.
You in trouble, girl.
Pinching her nose, she agreed with her subconscious for once.
Oh yeah, she was in trouble.
…
“You hustled me.” Ronin scowled, pointing the PS4 video game controller in Kim’s direction. “Swindler,” he accused, covering his laughter with a darker glare.
She shrugged, a smile tugging at her mouth. “Don’t blame me because you lost. I told you not to set your sentry gun up in the open,” she reminded him in a sing-song voice. “I also warned you Call of Duty was my game.”
