Mountain Man's Accidental Baby Daughter (A Mountain Man's Baby Romance)

by Lia Lee

  She paused when Trent’s eyes turned to something over her shoulder. She followed his gaze and stood up abruptly. Gerard was watching her oddly, and he looked exhausted.

  “Hey…”

  He glanced at Trent again, very briefly, as if willing him to disappear.

  “How are you settling in? Did you have lunch?”

  “Yeah.” Hartford tried to ignore the realization that she didn’t like it when Gerard talked to Trent, and didn’t like it when he barely looked at Trent. She was being incredibly difficult to please. “Thanks. Mrs. Berry is very helpful.”

  “Feel free to use whatever you want in the house. The pool. Anything.” He eyed the way she was clutching Trent’s wrist in viselike grip as the boy tried to escape to the pool again. His gaze darted over her face to Trent’s face, where it lingered and then snapped to the pool. “I’ll see you in the evening for our physio thing?”

  She nodded. “At six.”

  At six, the group of large man-boys was still laughing raucously in the east-wing room as they watched a game. Hartford all but bit her lower lip off in frustration. She knew the kind of guys they were. Gerard had had a group of those buffoons tied to him in high school, and she’d had to cut off the umbilical cord on them. They were rowdy good-for-nothings who had no work to do and spent insane amounts of time with Gerard because Gerard was a generous friend and a great companion. They only wasted his time and did little else to contribute to his life.

  At seven p.m., she put Trent to bed and stalked downstairs to stand in the doorway of the room that was decorated like a cave—a literal cave, but the walls were full shelving to accommodate Gerard’s vast collection of gadgets and man-toys.

  “Gerard?”

  Gerard still wasn’t even talking to his friends, a beer in his hand and a pizza box lying in the middle of the coffee table as the rest of the rowdies talked.

  “Yeah?” He sat up straighter.

  Hartford didn’t say a word. She just stared at him. Gerard’s smile vanished and he placed his beer down. The chatting ceased around the room as Gerard followed her out of the room.

  “Everything okay?”

  She had to tilt her head back to meet his eye. “We had a physio session at six. It’s seven thirty.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He seemed flustered.

  She knew she didn’t have any right to be so reproving of his carelessness in the role of being his doctor, but that professionalism got a little hazy when she laid eyes on him.

  “I forgot. I didn’t realize it was so late.”

  “Well, it is.”

  Gerard registered the unexpected hush that still prevailed in the room behind him. “We can do the physio thing in the morning.”

  Hartford lifted her brows, and she uncrossed her arms. She had more things to argue over. For one, he had gotten no form of exercise for the last seven hours. Plus, he shouldn’t have been eating that greasy, cholesterol-laden pizza, but she didn’t say it.

  For some reason, she found herself glaring back at him, engaging in a battle of wills. Forcing herself to quit the silent battle when she recalled why she was in his house in the first place, she looked away.

  “Sure. I’m going to bed,” she snapped almost coldly as she turned toward the stairs that led up to the west wing of the house.

  Sliding into bed, she glanced toward the door that led to the adjoining room where Trent was asleep. She was still reeling from the fact that she was in that house, with Gerard a few feet away. This was the only chance Trent would have in all his life to have both his parents in the same room as him. She didn’t feel bad. She didn’t need Gerard in her life.

  Seeing how he lived his life, just for one day, had been enough to remind her of how irresponsible Gerard could be. He was an intimidating man. He exuded power and strength and needed no one. And he could survive on his own, just like she could survive on her own. They didn’t have to be together. It was just as well that she’d been smart enough to see the real him and given up on him in time.

  Chapter Five

  The next day started with rowdy laughs and screams, and Hartford grimaced as she heard curses sounding from the toy room, as she’d named it. Trent was digging into his eggs, and she quickly took his spoon away, feeding him herself to hurry up the process. She had to get Trent away from the curses in this house! It seemed like the buffoons in Gerard’s toy room hadn’t left last night at all.

  “Hurry up, sweetheart,” she said, not wanting to rush him but left with no choice. This bachelor pad was no place for a three-year-old to stay. She could just picture Trent cursing all his way back to Maryland.

  Anger detonated inside her, long forgotten that it could be directed toward Gerard. She’d felt a lot of things toward him during the last four years when she cared for his son and hers all by herself. She’d missed his presence, and she’d been disappointed by how wrong she’d been about him. But she’d never been this furious.

  Mrs. Berry took Trent away to play in the back of the house. “Away from the pool, please,” Hartford had insisted.

  She’d also meant “away from the curses in your employer’s house,” but it wasn’t Mrs. Berry’s fault Gerard was being an ass.

  She recalled another group of buffoons that had followed Gerard around freshman year of college. They drank too much, they partied too much, and they had no sense of propriety, and Gerard always spent on those buffoons like his life depended on it. It wasn’t that Gerard was stupid—far from it. He was a smart, intelligent man with an astute sense of propriety; he was simply exceptionally generous. Besides, she’d gotten the feeling that Gerard was used to using his group of committed followers as a distraction from the stresses of his competitive, fast-paced life.

  She strode across the dining area to the expansive toy room, decked out with the latest of gadgets and games and what not. The interior was slate gray, and the high windows would filter light into the room, except the blinds were always pulled down. Hartford spotted Gerard lying on the couch, seemingly disinterested and tired, while the other men cheered on the pair of buffoons who were playing a video game. Hartford cleared her throat.

  No response. The music was too loud. She only wanted to get Gerard’s attention, but at this point, she was so angry at the way Gerard was acting that she was fine with creating a scene that would make the buffoons think twice before coming to see Gerard again.

  It’s his house, for Christ’s sake. He can do whatever the hell he wants.

  I don’t care, she answered back to her own mind’s voice.

  “Gerard?”

  Gerard glance at her from his vantage point. Wearing black lounging trousers and a gray T-shirt, he still managed to look powerful and authoritative.

  Hartford drew in a shaky breath. “When do you think you’ll be available for the work I came here to do?”

  Two of the buffoons glanced toward her but didn’t show any interest in her presence. Their yelling continued to be juvenile, and loud, and annoying. She lost it.

  “Excuse me?” Hartford said, louder, and four of the guys turned. “You too,” she said to the only one who hadn’t bothered to look at her. When he did, she sighed. “Yes, you.” She smiled politely. “Can you keep the noise down for a bit? The adults are trying to talk.”

  Silence. A hush fell over the room. The only sound in the spacious toy room was the music of the video game. They gaped at her standing in the doorway, her arms crossed, knowing that she looked absolutely livid. Then, almost comically, they turned in unison to look at Gerard.

  One look at Gerard and she wanted to laugh out loud. He looked like he was unsure whether she was real or an apparition.

  He sat up slowly. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m trying to talk to you.”

  “Can’t we do that in private?”

  Hartford grimaced. “I don’t know. Could we? Because it seems to me that you’re avoiding me. And that’s a waste of my talent and education because I came here to tend to you, not sit around
and hear the cursing fest that goes on this house.”

  Gerard’s jaw clenched. He looked a little foggy, either because he’d been up most of the night, or because his knee was acting up. He avoided his friends’ eyes and strode toward Hartford. She drew in a deep breath when it seemed like he’d slam straight into her on his way out, but he tilted his body at the last moment as he passed her.

  “Come here,” he hissed.

  Hartford was not scared of him. He did not intimidate her. He was nothing to her, absolutely nothing. But when he faced her and crossed his arms, she felt her knees turning to jelly.

  “What are you trying to accomplish?” he bit out through clenched teeth.

  “I’m trying to work. That’s what I came here to do.”

  “Well, I’m doing fine. Isn’t it your job to help assist me in recovering quicker? I’m resting. I’m off my feet. What else do you want me to do?”

  “I want these buffoons to leave.” Even though she knew she sounded like a pissed-off girlfriend, she defended herself by citing his irresponsibility as reason for her outburst. Belatedly, the reality of the situation hit her in the gut. She knew what this was about. “Are you trying to use that gang of idiots to avoid spending time with me?”

  He scoffed but didn’t say anything and swallowed as the pause gave away his feelings. That’s exactly what he was doing.

  “Would you prefer if I spent time with you instead?” he said with distaste, as if that was preposterous.

  Hartford’s heart slammed against her ribs. “That is not what I meant.”

  His jaws hardened. “In that case, I can do whatever I want in my house, you know?”

  “Well, I’m sure you can, but do you suggest I go back to where I came from? Because that’s the only option I see right now. Besides, the way things are going, my son will be a cursing pro by the time he goes back to Maryland.”

  Gerard’s face fell, and he rubbed his forehead with his hand. That clearly hadn’t crossed his mind. He wasn’t used to having a child around. How was he supposed to know?

  “I’ll ask them to keep it down.”

  Hartford’s head tilted back as she held his gaze, refusing to back down. Now that they were talking, it felt good, even if it was an argument and extremely counterproductive to the patient-doctor relationship they were expected to establish. She had to last the entire summer here. She tried to swallow her temper and stopped herself from saying more. He’d accepted defeat, but having him standing so close felt like a dream. It was surreal, and she wanted to prolong the moment.

  “What about your checkups and physio sessions? How long are you planning to avoid those for?”

  “I’m doing fine.”

  “Are you? I wouldn’t know, and I’ll make sure to write that down that in the report. Plus, your utter lack of exercise.”

  Gerard grated his teeth subtly. She’d hit a sore spot. He obviously couldn’t afford to let her do that.

  “How often do you want me?”

  Hartford’s cheeks flamed as she interpreted it completely wrong—and dirty. That’s not what he means.

  “I mean, of course…” he said slowly, as he watched the scarlet on her cheeks. “How often do you want the physio sessions?”

  “I’ll write down a schedule and hand it to you. But once a day for today, and twice a day for the remaining days of the week. And we’ll go from there.”

  “Fine.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Would that be all? Now can I do what I want to do in my own fucking house?”

  Hartford crossed her arms too, letting him know he didn’t intimidate her, and just watched him without answering for a while. Exasperated, he shook his head and turned to walk away.

  “I know what you’re doing with them,” she called.

  Gerard was taken aback by the softness in her voice. “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re trying to avoid seeing Trent, and you’re avoiding me. I’ll make sure to keep Trent out of your sight if he’s such an eyesore, and as for me, you’re stuck with that. You shouldn’t have agreed to let me to come here if you hated me so much.”

  She didn’t bother to look at him before striding out of the room.

  ***

  Gerard was about to say something, anything, but the words didn’t leave his lips. Hartford walked out of the room, and he stood there, hearing his friends’ hushed voices from the room behind him. Did he hate Hartford? Far from it. He didn’t want to go there, because he was afraid he was still madly, crazily…

  No. He shook his head to clear it. He’d come a long way from what he’d been four years ago. He couldn’t deny that he thought about her every day—about the way she dumped him, for the most part—and how he’d misjudged her feelings for him, but he was still in awe of her.

  But how dare she order him about in his own damned house. After everything she’d done and he’d forgiven, she had the gall to dictate what went down in his house and embarrass his friends?

  Suddenly, his massive house was too small, too tight, and he couldn’t breathe without seeing a glimpse of Hartford’s stunning, curvaceous, ripe body, or the boy’s face that looked exactly like his; it was suffocating him. Then something else hit him.

  Getting a full-time physio to help him recover wasn’t his own choice. His sponsors had mandated it. And he was stuck. He had to give Hartford the due time or the report would end up back to his sponsors.

  As for Trent… An eyesore, Hartford had said. That offended him, personally, for the child was his too—even if only biologically. He clenched his eyes shut and spent long minutes standing there, his hands on his waist and his head hung low, as he forced himself to come to terms with the shock of seeing the kid. Trent was his child. His mind chose that moment to remember the night his life had changed, the night he’d been drafted by the Seahawks. The night he’d made love to his girlfriend, told her he loved her, and emptied his load inside her body. That’s how Trent came into being. That night, that moment, had changed the course of both his and Hartford’s lives in more ways than one…

  Later, Hartford spent the afternoon seated on the rug on the living-room floor, her fingers on Gerard’s calf, his knee, his thigh. Luckily, he didn’t drop his pants that morning. He’d already been wearing a pair of shorts that she’d tucked up to the top of his thigh. She’d set her face in a classic resting-bitch expression to avoid revealing how she really felt about the moment.

  He hadn’t expected it to be so intimate. Trent was in the back of the house with Mrs. Berry, his friends had gone home, and the house was eerily silent. As Hartford worked on his leg, his eyes refused to pull away from her face.

  She drew back and looked up at him. “Done.”

  Gerard clenched his jaw as his navel tautened with desire. He was trying not to be so perverted about it, and the truth was, if the physio had been anyone but Hartford, he wouldn’t have even cared he was being touched. But he was strung up tight. Her fingers were both familiar and a completely novel sensation on his skin. Her touch was skilled and magical as she massaged his leg. She didn’t once look up at him, and to make matters worse, the neckline of her button-down white blouse was dipping lower. Her dark, gleaming breasts swelled in round globes above the neckline. His gaze kept dropping to her breasts of their own accord, but he forced himself to drag it away from the sight. After a while, he simply stopped trying to not look at her breasts.

  Gerard saw her expression falter when she saw his face. He was breathing hard, his manhood engorged, his balls aching, yet thankfully concealed in the baggy shorts he’d purposely worn because he’d expected things to end up like this. After a moment, she slid backward, while Gerard tautened his shoulders, urging himself not to reach for her, not to touch her, not to plunge his hand down the front of her blouse and gather her swelling breasts in his rough palms. His throat dry, he attempted to nod. Hartford’s eyelids fluttered and she lowered her gaze, then stood up, closed her bag of medical supplies, and strode off.

  Ge
rard rested his elbows on his knees, tilting his head sideways as he watched her full, too-round hips hugged snugly by the denim capris that accentuated her toned legs. His lips were parched, and he couldn’t look away, and when she disappeared toward the back of the house, he sighed and cursed under his breath. He was going to die, surely, staying strung up and aroused on end.

  It had been merely four days and he’d already barely managed to keep his lust in check. It imploded out of nowhere, incontrollable and fiery and satanic. How was he supposed to forget the way she felt in his arms when her breasts and ass and mouth were on display. The last time he’d seen her, he was in love with her. It seemed as if the entire portion of the transition, where they would’ve fought and resented each other and then broken up, was missing. It should’ve happened as a natural order of things. He was struggling to force himself to remember that he despised Hartford. He didn’t.

  Accepting that his boner wasn’t going away anytime soon, he made his way to his temporary bedroom on the ground floor and found his swimming trunks, pulling them on over his still-engorged boner. He strode furiously to the pool, his leg throbbing and light from the massage. His head pounded with lust and confusion, and he threw himself into the water angrily. Then he swam, frantically, trying to cool his body down. It worked.

  After long minutes, he let himself float, soaking up the sun.

  ***

  Hartford watched him from the window on the first floor. Her room and Trent’s looked out onto a wide balcony, and the window provided a full view of the back lawns and the swimming pool. But her eyes weren’t appreciating the beauty of his home and the acres of land that was tended to by an army of gardeners every day; they were glued to the man who’d once promised to stand by her forever.

  Hartford recalled how good it had felt to slide her fingers across his unusually taut muscles. During the session, she’d tried to be professional and concentrate on his leg as work and not as a sexual object. She’d been distracted by flashes of the past, when she’d been touching him and he’d been touching her back. His hands had always been too rough and too strong, and she’d winced and whined when he took her. He was dominating in bed and out of it. Without even trying, he had a way of leading her.