by Stacey Lynn
I never knew the man I idolized as a kid was a man who invested well, and purchased more life insurance than imaginable. So imagine my shock when he passed away my second year of college, leaving me the beneficiary of millions of dollars’ worth of investments and insurance.
I did the one thing I promised him I would. Bought the biggest place I could find that would overlook all of Portland, the river, and in the distance, my old neighborhood along with Mount Hood even farther in the distance. On a sunny day, I can see all of it from my wraparound balcony and every day I step out there, I think of Irvin, and all that he gave me.
And none of it is financial.
“Why’d you come see me today?” I ask Cara. She jumps at the sternness in my tone and I don’t really care. I’ve been so worried about taking care of her today I haven’t actually had time to process the news she gave me.
I’m going to be a dad.
In the reflection of the mirrored doors, her brows pinch together. “I told you. I thought you had a right to know.”
“How noble. And that’s it? You were just going to stop by, let me know I was going to be a dad, and leave?”
She jerks, her face paling. I’m being an ass and I can’t stop myself. The day has been a complete whirlwind and all I’ve been able to think about is her…but what about me?
“I, well, I hadn’t gotten that far, I guess. But I thought we’d talk about it, you know, and if you want to have a part in it?”
“If I want to have a part in it? In what, being a dad? What, from what you know of me, gives you any indication I wouldn’t want that?”
She shakes her head, wisps of hair slapping her shoulders before cascading down her chest. “I…I’m confused. Are you mad at me?”
“No, Cara.” I shake my head. Swiping a hand down my face. All the memories I have of her slam into me, making me groan. “I’m not mad. Every guy likes to hear that it’s a fucking disaster when you sleep with him.”
“Braxton—” She starts but the elevator slides to a stop and the doors open.
I step out, hearing her feet following me, and I’m at the door to my place, throwing it open when she reaches me.
“Come on in. I’ll show you to your room.”
I hold the door open for her with my arm extended but she doesn’t enter.
Her cheeks are no longer pale, but the color of strawberries, and she’s nibbling on her bottom lip.
She’s done that before, when she suggested she wasn’t ready for our night at the wedding to end.
Damn her for being so enticing when I’m such a damn mistake.
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Doesn’t matter.” I wave my free hand forward. “We should get you something to eat and you need more rest.”
She steps toward me, not the open doorway. Lifting her hand, I keep my gaze on hers as she moves it like she wants to press it to my chest. At the last second, she freezes and lets her hand fall to her side.
Dropping her gaze, she nods once and steps inside. I follow her, letting the door slam shut behind me, and I move around her until I’m past the short entry hallway and in the kitchen.
Behind me, she gasps, and the sound shoots straight to my dick. Fuck her.
Fuck this entire situation. I can easily back out now. Tell her I want nothing to do with the baby. Pay for her medical care, sign my rights away, give her the chance to find a guy she actually wants to raise a kid with. As soon as I think these thoughts, I steady myself against the kitchen counter.
That’s not happening.
The kid inside of her is mine, and I wouldn’t be the man Irvin helped raise if I washed my hands of this entire thing.
We’ll just have to make the best of it.
“Look.” I brace my hands on the counter, straightening my arms, and turn to face her. She’s staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows that line this side of the condo. The view is incredible. I can stare at it for hours, and some days, I do, with nothing but a glass of Glenlivet straight in my hand and my feet kicked up on my coffee table.
But now, all I see is her, tears slowly streaking down her cheeks, terror on her face like I’ve slapped her or she’s remembering a nightmare.
“Look, Cara,” I say again, swallowing down the part of me that still wants to be an asshole. “I get it. You didn’t mean for this to happen. And I apologize for being a dick, but you have to give me some credit here. You’ve dropped an awfully large bomb in my lap today.”
“I understand.” She wipes tears away, rubbing her fingers together. The emotion on her face dissipates, but she keeps her eyes on the view. “If you’ll show me where I’m sleeping, I’m going to go to bed. It’s late and I’m tired.”
Her voice is blank. Not angry. Not hopeful, and not disappointed.
Just blank and I’ve done this to her.
“You should eat.”
“I really just want to sleep.”
“Cara—”
“Please, Braxton.” She spins on her heels, facing me, defeat stamped all over her slumped shoulders. “I’m tired. You can process this bomb I gave you and we’ll talk tomorrow. Okay?”
It’s not. Nothing about this is okay, but there’s not much I can say. She’s been sleeping all day and her color is finally normal again, but she’s still pale and the purple circles under her eyes seem to be darkening by the minute.
“Okay.”
I push off the kitchen counter and open up the bag containing her prescription. “The doctor said you won’t need these tonight, but you should take it first thing in the morning. I’ll get you settled and see if Stella brought the crackers I asked for and then I’ll bring them back to your room.”
I hand her the bottle along with bottled water from the fridge and start walking. “Your room is this way. It’s just a guest room, and nothing special, but you have your own bathroom. I’ve got a cleaning lady who comes every week so it should be clean. I don’t usually come in here.”
“It’s lovely,” she says, as we reach the room. My room is on the other side of the apartment, around the corner from the living room, past the office. If anything happens, I won’t be able to hear her.
Maybe I should sleep on the couch, just in case.
“Braxton?”
“Hm?” I jerk my head toward Cara. “What?”
“You look lost.”
I am. So damn lost. This urge to protect her and care for her is insane, and she can barely stand my presence. Fuck the problems I find myself in.
“I’m fine. Was just thinking. Is there anything you need?”
Her nose scrunches and she looks around the room. “I don’t have any clothes. Or a toothbrush.”
She sounds as lost as I feel. Who can blame her?
“I’ll get it. Be back in a few minutes.”
I leave, not bothering to close the bedroom door. While I hurry around my condo, I head to my room and snag an extra toothbrush—stopping as a small whine comes from my room.
“Shit.” I stop at Lucy’s kennel and crouch down so she can sniff my fingers. Her tan ears pull back and she scratches at the kennel door. “I totally forgot about you, girl. Stella take care of you? Yeah?” She sniffs and licks my fingers. An abused bullmastiff pup when I started fostering her, she’s now well over fifty pounds, and growing rapidly, but still thinks she’s tiny. She behaves more like a lapdog or kitten than the beast she appears to be. “Let me get Cara settled and I’ll take you out, okay?”
She yips at my fingers playfully.
“All right. All right. I’ll hurry.”
Lucy’s whine increases as I grab a T-shirt from a drawer and an extra toothbrush. By the time I’m done, she’s pawing wildly at the kennel door and I know the sign.
If I don’t get
her out now, she’ll piss all over the place.
I make a quick detour to grab her training collar and leash and then I’m opening the door. I clip it on her but before I can tell her to heel, she tears out of my hold, bounding through the apartment.
“Lucy!” I shout, hurling after the eight-foot leash that’s trailing behind her. “Heel!”
“Oh!” Cara’s shout sends me into double time and I slide around the corner of the hallway, to see her squatting, ass to heels, her arms around Lucy’s neck as she nuzzles right up to her.
Bright, vivid blue eyes slam into mine and I’m struck stupid.
Lucy doesn’t like anyone. It took weeks to get her to stop trembling when she was dropped off at my place. She’d been badly abused and beaten by her previous owners. I’ve never seen her have this playful reaction to another human being before.
“I’m sorry,” I say, finding my voice. I close the space and grab Lucy’s collar, giving her a quick tug to pull her off Cara. “She usually hides from people, avoids them at all costs.”
“Oh.” Cara pets the top of Lucy’s head and slides her hand to Lucy’s ear, scratching it. “How surprising. She’s really sweet. What is she?”
“Bullmastiff pup. I’m fostering her.”
She smiles and it’s peaceful and sweet. Exactly like how I remember her. A strange heat burns my chest. “She’s big for a pup.”
“She’ll be a hundred pounds full grown.” An awkward silence descends and I hold out my shirt and toothbrush. “I grabbed these for you. I have to get her outside before she pees. Need anything else?”
“No.” Her smile vanishes and she gives Lucy another gentle rubdown as she stands to her feet. Lucy tugs on her leash and collar to get closer. To Cara.
I’m so struck by the dog’s reaction to this woman I barely register it when she stands and steps back into her bedroom doorway. “Thank you, again, for everything. I’ll see you in the morning?”
“Yeah.” My throat has gone dry though. She’s lost and vulnerable and so damn happy to see this dog that’s a pain in my butt even if she’s still sweet. Right now, Cara’s giving me a look that’s a mixture between apologetic and friendly, and I’m so damn tired of hearing her apologize and thank me today I can’t handle any more of it.
I want to kiss her light pink lips and pull her to me and press my hand to her lower abdomen even though I know I can’t feel a baby yet. And I want to do it all, while she wants nothing to do with me.
“Sleep well.” I’m gruff, but it’s necessary.
I’m going to have to learn how to be around Cara, help her through her pregnancy, and raise a kid with her. And I have to do all of that while trying to get over the intense physical reaction I have whenever she so much as glances at me.
Fuck my life.
Chapter 5
Cara
Silence falls in Braxton’s home after he leaves my room with Lucy. It’s amazing he can be so rude to me and yet obviously love animals so much to foster them. I’d like to think it’s because he might be more of an animal person than a people person, but unfortunately, I think the blame of his rudeness sits squarely on my shoulders.
I don’t remember saying it was a disaster to sleep with him. I do remember thinking he was still sleeping when I snuck out of his hotel room the morning after, but the disaster has nothing to do with him or the time we spent together, more because I was just entirely embarrassed I’d had a one-night stand to begin with.
My first, at twenty-four. I didn’t know how to behave. Stick around and wait for him to wake up to regret it or blow me off like I’d heard happened to many of my friends?
Would we have talked and laughed and maybe had another round of hot sex before he kicked me out without getting my number?
All my college friends talked about getting out to avoid all of that, so it’s what I did. If my parents’ disappointing voices echoing in my head, repeating how I’m a disaster and can rarely make the right choices, accidentally came out of my mouth that morning, it’s completely not Braxton’s fault.
And it explains why he was rude to me earlier in the day, why he pretended not to know me at first.
Hell, most days, I don’t even want to know me. But I’m trying. I’m trying to do the right thing and at some point, I have to quit listening to my parents’ constant disapproval of every decision I make and forge my own path.
It’s the entire reason why I dropped out of law school and moved out on my own anyway.
To live for Jimmy. To do all the things we’d always wanted to accomplish outside the umbrella of our parents’ financial help.
And somehow, I keep screwing it up.
But that also means it’s time to make it right too.
An hour ago, I slipped into his T-shirt, unbuttoned my jeans, keeping them fastened with a hair tie I’ve taken to carrying on my wrist for when my jeans become too tight. I’ve alternated between pacing the floor of this small, nondescript, and completely undecorated bedroom, and tossing and turning all over the top of the beige comforter.
If I sleep, I’ll dream of Braxton and the memories of hot sex. Without fail, they come almost every night.
If I talk to him, I risk upsetting him again.
A loud bark from down the hall grabs my attention and I spin on my feet.
Lucy. Such a sweet pup and I can’t forget the surprise on Braxton’s face when she came right to me, panting and licking my hand.
“Remember. If he takes in strays, and takes care of wounded mutts, he’s not an asshole.” I repeat my earlier mantra that gave me confidence to walk through the doors of MadInk, and open the door to my room.
I walk slowly, not wanting to interrupt whatever he may be doing, but the only sounds I hear are Lucy’s playful growls and Braxton’s quiet laughter.
I spot him as soon as I turn the corner. He’s sitting in a dark brown leather chair, one that looks comfortable and worn but expensive. I’m again struck surprised by the fact that a man who owns a tattoo parlor in a less-than-impressive neighborhood to say the least, can afford a penthouse apartment in downtown Portland.
It sparked a hundred questions when I realized he lived in this building, all of them more curious but again, my mouth moved faster than my brain and I offended him.
I’m pretty much batting a thousand on the most embarrassing ways to put my foot in my mouth today.
He tosses the ball to Lucy and she fumbles it against her mouth, bumping it across the hard wood floor. She paws it twice and the ball rolls to my feet. She slides to a halt, sitting back on her haunches and tilting her head up at me.
“She likes you.”
Braxton’s voice startles me and I look up from where I’m crouching to grab the ball. “I’ve never seen her run to a person before and with you it was like she couldn’t wait to get to you.”
I pick up the ball and toss it to Lucy. She watches it roll by and turns back to me, barking once.
“She wants to be petted,” Braxton says and I pull my eyes from the dog to him.
“Can I?”
“She doesn’t bite. At least she hasn’t yet.”
He leans back in his chair, knees spread wide. He’s changed clothes, from his jeans and T-shirt to a pair of cozy gray sweats and, if possible, an even tighter—this time navy—shirt.
I don’t know if his words are a warning or approval so I go to Lucy and hold out my hand for her to sniff. She immediately licks my palm and nuzzles my hand with the side of her head.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” I tell Braxton, but my attention is on Lucy. Her deep black eyes are sad, like she’s been drowning her entire life. Plus, focusing on Braxton is dizzying.
He’s so handsome, sexy, and built. He’s done nothing but take care of me, and all I’ve done is mess it up.
> “Can’t sleep?”
I shake my head and stand from petting Lucy. As I step toward Braxton, she crowds my side, walking next to me until I’m at the couch.
I take a seat at the far edge, tucking my feet under me, and Lucy rests her face almost right in my lap.
“She’s really sweet,” I say, smiling at the dog.
When I glance at Braxton, his brow is furrowed. A tumbler of alcohol is against his lips, ink covering his knuckles.
“Hmm.”
It’s all the response I get. I’m not surprised. We know practically nothing about each other and I’ve now invaded his home, even if it was at his suggestion, but I’m no fool. This guy takes in abused animals, and I’m his new pet he thinks he has to nurse back to health.
The thought is depressing and I try to push it to the side while I replay what I want to tell him.
And like Jimmy used to tell me, whenever difficult news needed to be shared, which he had a lot of, it’s best to dive in and get it over with.
“My dad is the founding partner at the most prestigious corporate law firm in Portland. His father started the firm and family is supposed to continue that path. It’s always been expected of my brother and me.”
I stumble over what to say next, mindlessly running my hand over Lucy, and face Braxton. He’s holding his glass in his lap, leaning forward slightly, like he’s paying attention but only against his will. Memories of Jimmy flood me and I choke down the emotion that always follows.
It’s not the hormones this time. I really miss my brother.
“Anyway.” I shake my head and blink harshly to clear the burn of tears. “My brother is the prodigy in the family, the one who always did what they wanted, and not because it was expected, but because he truly enjoyed it.”
“And you?” He takes a sip of his drink, and it’s hard to see with the ink on his hands, and peeking out above the collar of his shirt, but I think he’s tensed.
“I’m not that.” I shrug slowly and look behind Braxton’s inspecting dark eyes to the dark skyline beyond. Lights flicker off close buildings, other high-rise condo buildings have their windows wide open and I can see into their buildings like a fishbowl. “I’ve always disappointed them. I quit school, I moved out, I moved to my own apartment and threw myself into making a success of my art, oils mostly, sometimes acrylics, landscapes but I love the urban streets too.”