Undisclosed Desire (The Complete Box Set

by Falon Gold

  It seems we’re going to have to take road trips every time we want some privacy, which I won’t need if I can’t get Astrid to talk to me or stay. I twist in my seat, facing her with my back to the window.

  “I need you to promise me that you’ll at least think about staying for a little while, so we can—”

  “Can what?” She frowns. “We’ve done all we’re going to do, Blake.”

  “No, we haven’t. You’re pregnant with my son, Astrid. We’ll be doing things together for him the next eighteen years at least.”

  The bridge of her nose wrinkles up again, and lips compress into a thin line. “You couldn’t even tell your family about me. Now you want what from me? A real relationship?”

  Damn, she’s pissy.

  Understandable, but I need to get her out of that space too, by backing off.

  “Yes, I want at least a platonic relationship with you for my son’s sake, but I’d rather have you both,” I admit quietly.

  She rotates at the waist to face me, placing her back against the door and bent knee against the gearshift. “You didn’t want more than casual sex with me until now. How am I supposed to believe that suddenly you’re ready to commit and want a family?”

  “We didn’t feel casual to me, Astrid, and a family is what I’ve always wanted… with you.”

  I grow angry and turn it inward at myself—she wouldn’t think she’s a casual anything if I’d been more upfront with her about what she means to me. The strategy to not lead her on with sweet words of commitment worked too damn well. It doesn’t mean that I didn’t feel committed to her. Every day we were together, I tried to show it to her. My biggest sin will always be not telling her.

  I swipe a hand across my jaw. “Sweetheart, I wasn’t ready for lots of things when we met or for you to leave me behind. The thought of coming for you soon kept me sane. The stupidest thing I could’ve done was let you leave, but there are reasons why I seemed unready to settle down with you and a family and didn’t answer your phone calls this week. That doesn’t mean I don’t think of you as my girl and my family. I have some shit hanging over my head that I don’t want you getting twisted up in. I wanted to straighten it all out first, but the best laid plans… you know the rest.”

  She crosses her arms across her breasts, making them puff out of the top of her dress a little more. My jeans become a little more uncomfortable around my hips. I jerk my eyes up to her face wearing a glare when she should be happy.

  “I’m not a child, Blake. You don’t need to protect me.”

  “I protect, Astrid. That’s what I do, and I’m damn sure going to protect the woman I love.”

  She gasps. Her eyes widen until they encompass her face.

  I lean forward. “Put your eyes back in your head, love. You were hired to work a shift by yourself, and you never did. I have never stepped out on you or acted like you didn’t exist when we weren’t sleeping together. I worked on your truck, around your apartment as much as I did my own, and spent most of my days and nights with you. That should’ve clued you in on my feelings for you right there.”

  She grins, but it goes away as fast it comes. “Hell, I thought you were just keeping me buttered up, had great stamina, a high sex drive, and needed me around for whenever the urge for sex hit you.”

  A laugh bubbles up in chest. “When the urge hit me, huh? The same can be said about you. Did you forget you’re the reason I have to lie to everyone at the station about the rats that don’t exist in the janitor’s closet? I was the only one willing to wait until we got back to one of our apartments to get you naked.”

  Her smile returns, and the sultry look I love to see on her face appears. Then both fade. It’s like she doesn’t want to feel anything around me.

  “It’s true that you never ignored me, refused me, or made me feel like I was being used while I lived here. That’s part of why it was so easy to stay with you for a year when I wasn’t really with you, but you didn’t tell me how you felt or wanted me to know much about you, so I didn’t assume you really cared for me. That creates… stalkers.”

  I’m not blind to the fact that she hasn’t mentioned if she cares for me too (I can wait however long it takes for her to reach that point), or if she’s already given up on me.

  “No, Astrid, you assumed I didn’t care. That’s on me because I didn’t tell you a lot of things that you should’ve heard from me, but you were always with me and I was always yours. I am sorry for every time you wondered about my feelings for you, and I’ll fix that if you let me. Will you stay in Arrow until I prove you wrong about me?”

  She opens her mouth. The shadow of a human form approaching from behind me falls across her dress. I’m surprised no one approached the car sooner.

  “Don’t answer me now, Astrid.” If she stays here long enough for the reception, she won’t risk driving and arriving back in Harrison after dark. Practical and reasonable should be Astrid’s middle names, along with sexy even while pregnant, and too damn hot to handle in bed or against a wall…

  Stop it, Blake, or you will be standing on your head for real.

  I hold on tightly to the thought of getting at least one night alone with her. Hopefully, it’s enough time to persuade her to stay for a lifetime. A knock on the window fires off behind me just as I reach down to adjust the swelling behind my zipper. Astrid’s eyes track my movements. The top of her tongue peeks from between her lips. A throb pulses through my crotch. I lurch around to sit correctly in my seat before I pull her into it with me, push her dress up, and dive penis-first into her body with Malisa looking. Astrid has yet to deny me her body. I suspect her heart is another matter though.

  Malisa stands on the other side of the raised glass, with her hands laying on each side of her stomach. She can’t reach down far enough to get to her hips anymore. “You might as well get out and face me like a man, Blake.”

  War has just been declared.

  My head swivels to the woman sitting beside me. “You know this is the last time you’re going to see me alive, right?”

  She laughs out loud. “I swear I’ll attend your funeral.”

  “Seriously! You’re not even going to help me?”

  “Nope.”

  “Ain’t that a bitch. I’m your child’s father and you’re just going to sit back and watch my sister murder me,” I retort dryly.

  “Blake’s cussing, Mama!” Malisa yells out.

  The front door slams shut shortly afterwards. Mama O is getting clear of the childish back and forth between Malisa and I, that is until she catches me alone to find out whatever it is she wants to know about my current situation. It’s the same thing she did after Malisa arrived in Colorado with a broken heart, refusing to clarify what happened.

  Broken is probably the same way Astrid returned to her folks, or scared to death.

  My playfulness dies a quick death. Shame, from making her feel like she needed to look elsewhere for restoring her well-being, fills me and kills my hard-on. Well, I’m not thinking of groping my baby mama in front of everyone anymore, but I’ll make up the last six months to Astrid if it’s the last thing I do. I have to get around Mama O’s black stare first. It’ll come after she and Malisa get the dirty details of my relationship with Astrid, and they will get them.

  I gain empathy for Malisa for what she went through when it was her wearing my shoes. You’d think she’d have some compassion for me. Nope, that woman takes advantage of payback every chance she gets when it comes to me. Okay, so I’ll deserve whatever she does after all the pranks I’ve pulled on her and the trouble I’ve gotten her into, including putting her on the no-fly list when all she wanted was some space to get over the pain Apollo hadn’t meant to cause her.

  I reach over the seat and place my hand over Astrid’s baby bump. “I wish daddy had gotten a chance to meet you on solid ground, little man, but my sister is going to make you an orphan first.”

  Astrid’s stomach depresses, as if my touch is sucking all the air
out of her. A hard lump the size of a golf ball rises under my palm, like our child knows the feel of my hand and sound of my voice. Butterflies begin stomping around my insides.

  “Don’t worry, Blake.” Astrid pats my knuckles lightly with her fingertips, with a ghost of a smile haunting her lips. “He won’t be an orphan. I’ll still be here, and I’ll make sure to tell him all about you… Won’t I, baby boy?” She ducks her head and coos to the baby.

  Watching her interact with the little person that’s not even here yet makes a knot form in my throat. This is the Astrid I know; bright-natured and banting back and forth playfully with everyone. She’s the only one who could make me forget all my issues just by being herself.

  My mouth falls open, pretending to be appalled by her response, though my heart feels heavy. “Just telling him about me doesn’t make me feel better, Astrid. Malisa is going to kill me about you two.”

  Astrid gives me a sympathetic smack of her lips. “Yeah, but the baby will be well taken care of after I get your pension and go back to work.” At least, she’ll get something out of being with me besides a whole lot of responsibility in the form of the mini-me rumbling around her body.

  I flop back in my seat, grumbling, letting my hand falls in my lap. “You’re waiting for me to die, aren’t you?” I joke, but it’ll serve me right if she really is—she uprooted her life because she didn’t trust me to be there for her. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to be able to go back and change that.

  She shakes her head and snickers. My door opens suddenly. I glimpse up at Malisa, who looks even angrier than she sounded on the phone, with Apollo standing behind her.

  “Out, Blake!” she demands. “You know I can’t bend over to beat you properly or greet Astrid. It takes two minutes for me to get down. Two minutes to get back up. I know that for a fact.”

  With one hand, Astrid covers her mouth to suppress the laughter rocketing out of it and reaches for her door handle with the other one.

  “Don’t you dare,” I hiss.

  Her hands drop on top of her stomach. A snigger escapes from her lips. “Blake, I’m pregnant, not an invalid. You don’t always have to open every door for me.”

  “We’ve had this discussion before a year ago, remember? The outcome will be the same. Yes, I do have to open every door for you, and no, being pregnant does not make you an invalid. You can still walk on your own after I open the door… if you want to walk. I can carry you to the house.”

  The corners of her mouth lift and stay there this time. “Thank you, but no thank you. If you’re going to open this door, you need to do it quickly. I have to use the little girl’s room every twenty minutes it seems lately.”

  Malisa groans and shuffles backwards into Apollo. “These kids act like my bladder is a chair too. I swear one of them is always sitting on it.”

  Astrid mutters, “Amen.”

  Apollo kisses the top of Malisa’s head then wraps his arm around her stomach from behind. “It’ll be over in a little bit, sweetheart. Then your uterus will probably say to hell with producing anymore children, and you won’t have to go through this again.”

  Malisa sighs. “I sure as hell hope so, Apollo. As much as I’d like a little girl, I’d like to see my feet too.”

  “Not right now you don’t!” Uncle Tommy yells from the front porch. He hears like a bat, even at thirty-nine-years old. Then his head rebounds forward, as if someone smacked the shit out of it from behind. Probably Aunt Chrys. She doesn’t mind taking over where Mama O leaves off.

  Chapter Four

  Blake

  I get out the truck and make my way quickly to Astrid’s side, helping her out.

  Malisa turns around to face Apollo. “I don’t want to walk, babe.”

  He uses his long arms to reach around her and squeeze her ass, while grinning. “Okay, sweetheart.” Gross.

  She snickers and stands on tiptoe to kiss the underside of his chin. “Just kidding. I got all the way out here on my own. I can get back… before the wedding I hope.” She steps around him and takes off at the pace of a turtle along the curving driveway.

  When her hands flail out, like she’s losing her balance, Apollo catches her waist in both hands from behind. “Wait, baby. Hold on to me. You really are unstable, aren’t you?”

  She snorts, stops, and lets him intertwine their fingers before moving forward again. Astrid rounds the back end of the truck, under her own steam. I wish she needed me to hold onto, but I certainly don’t wish triplets on her or me just so she’ll cling to me, so I walk a step behind her, praying for the day she’ll reach for me on instinct.

  Uncle Tommy steps to the edge of the porch. “How many babies is she carrying, Blake? Where did you and Apollo buy your sperm at so I know not to go there?”

  Pops chokes on air loudly then coughs out, “Shut up, Tommy!”

  “I didn’t say nothing wrong that time, Frank. Come on, I have some sensitivity.”

  Aunt Chrys snaps her head around to Tommy standing beside her. “No, you don’t. Never have.”

  “Yes, I do, and I did. You’ll see when Derek knocks you up, Chrysalis, and you two should hurry that up. You’ll be fifty in about six months? Your eggs are boiling inside you as we speak.”

  Something gets stuck in my aunt’s throat, too. “Seriously, Tommy!”

  He nods. “Dead ass, Chrysalis. I tried to keep your secret that you’re old as dirt, but it’s not fair to your boy toy Derek behind you.”

  She raises both hands in the air. “We’re a year apart! I’m thirty-four! He’s thirty-three!”

  Derek chuckles and pulls her hands down then wraps them around his back, making her lean into his chest. He should. Aunt Chrys handles grown men for a living as a bounty hunter two cities over in much more fast-paced and crime-infested Spindle.

  Uncle Tommy’s skinny ass will not stand a chance. He wobbles his head and crosses his hands across his abdomen. “If that’s your story, sister, I love you enough to stick to it with you.”

  Aunt Chrys looks back at Derek. “Can I kill him now?”

  Derek gives her a ‘let it go, babe’ smirk.

  Natalia shakes her head behind them, with Luke Jr. wiggling in her arms. So short, she’s barely visible in the crowd. “Why do you all take anything out of Tommy’s mouth so seriously? He’s a clown.”

  Pops grunts. “It’s the shit that comes out of his mouth that ticks us off. He has no filter whatsoever.”

  “I’ll tell you what needs a filter, Frank,” Uncle Tommy starts. “Your stomach does. At least the women will drop their loads. Yours needs an X painted on it so helicopters can land safely during the freak blizzards that trap people in their homes sometimes.”

  “Shut up, Tommy,” Pops spits then pulls the latch on the glass screen door to get to the brass knob of the oak barrier that’s shielding Mama O from my, Malisa’s, and the rest of the family’s silliness. Pops is doing his damndest to escape Tommy’s.

  Tommy catches the glass door, following right behind him. “I’m telling you, Frank, you will save a lot of lives if you become a helipad.”

  The porch empties quickly, when everyone marches single file inside, leaving the inside door open for us.

  Halfway to the porch, Astrid’s shoulders begin to bounce in front of me, laughing quietly. “Are they always like this?”

  “Whenever Unk, which is Uncle Tommy, is around, yes. That’s only some of the Owens that you saw. Two of my aunts are probably still decorating in the gardens with Apollo’s mother. Almost everyone has kids except Unk, Aunt Chrys who’s divorced, and the twins, aunt Jen and Barbie who work with Aunt Chrys. Unk is the only one that swears he’s hilarious though.”

  “He is,” she says just as we reach the bottom step. “I can tell they’re good people.”

  “They are,” I say proudly. “But don’t let them fool you. They’re probably all waiting in the living room for us, and they’ll all be nice in front of you. As soon as I show you to the bathroom, the Spanish Inquisi
tion will begin for me. I’m not looking forward to it. They’ll catch you alone too, so we can’t get our stories straight. Mama O is more cop than we are.” That’s as much preparation for what’s coming as I can give her.

  “I’m ready for it.”

  “What aren’t you ready for, Astrid?” It would be perfect if she says raising our child alone.

  She stops and looks back. “Loving you, Blake.”

  Her answer catches me off guard. Will she ever stop surprising the hell out of me? I stumble to a halt, not sure if she loves me or not, or maybe not anymore. Before I can ask her to enlighten me, she climbs the stairs and vanishes inside the house. If she does love me, is it enough to keep her here with me?

  “Holy shit! Blake’s girl looks just like Malisa up close,” Uncle Tommy says from inside the house, where Astrid is alone. “Lydia, you can stop your henpecking now. Blake’s finally found what he’s been needing to settle down finally.”

  “What’s that, Tommy?” she yells back.

  “A copy of Malisa!”

  I expected everyone to comment on their similarity, just not that damn loudly. I flinch, charge the front steps as if they’re my enemy, and then sling the glass door wide open. It crashes into the wicker loveseat, which skids into the matching rocking chair on the porch. If my uncle’s words are sending pure dismay undulating through me, who knows what they’re doing to Astrid right now?

  I step over the threshold into the living area that is bigger than standard, addressed with white contemporary furniture with brown wood trimming, and filled with family predictably. I feel justified in wanting to shield Astrid from being dubbed an extra for Malisa and keeping her at arms’ length to ward off the jokes that would surely come her way. Uncle Tommy is only being flip about her resemblance to Malisa. That’s all he ever does about anything. Still, everything inside me recoils on itself. Just about anyone who associates with the Powers are cruel enough to insult Astrid about it behind her back and to her face.

  Mercifully, the Owens aren’t heartless enough to do that. However, Mama O will take the first chance she gets to get down to the nitty gritty, questioning why I felt the need to keep Astrid undercover, along with what I see in her. That’s going to be an awkward conversation to navigate. Who wants to be interrogated by the parental units about anything? If all goes well, it won’t last long.