by Marie Force
“No, it isn’t. I can’t be throwing up all day every day in the midst of our busy season.”
Owen smiled into soft blonde hair “Maybe it won’t be as bad this time as it was with Holden.”
“It would certainly explain why I feel like death warmed over. Oh God, Owen! How could this have happened?”
“I can tell you if you really don’t know.”
“Don’t be funny,” she said between sobs. “There’s nothing funny about this.”
“Yes, there is.”
She punched his shoulder. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who pukes your guts up for months when you’re pregnant.”
Choking back a laugh he knew she wouldn’t appreciate, he tightened his arms around her. “I’m the one who scoops you up off the floor.”
“I’m not ready for another baby! I can barely handle the one I have.”
“You’re an awesome mom, and there’s nothing you can’t handle.”
“You have to say that. You did this to me.”
He drew back from her so he could see her pretty face, which was now puffy and red from crying. At least she had some color in her cheeks. “And it was the most fun I ever had doing anything to anyone.”
“Stop making jokes.”
He kissed the pout off her lips. “Stop acting like the world has ended.”
“I don’t want to be sick all summer,” she said with a moan. “It’s so awful.”
“I know, honey, but I’ll be right there with you, just like I was last time, and we’ll get through it together. And in a few months, we’ll have another baby to love as much as we love Holden.”
“Don’t get too excited before we know for sure.”
She was right, yet he had a sneaking suspicion that he was right, too. It would explain a lot about why she’d been feeling so poorly. “Hmm, let’s examine the evidence, shall we? Exhibit A: feeling crappy for more than a week.” He rested a hand on her flat belly, where there was no sign of a new life growing inside her—yet. She’d bounced right back to her pre-baby figure after giving birth to Holden in February. His hand moved from her belly to her chest, cupping a full breast.
“Don’t. They hurt.”
“Ah-ha! Exhibit B: sore boobs, and, might I add, a bit bigger than usual. Not that I’m complaining.”
She sniffled as new tears flooded her eyes. “Owen.”
He cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. “I love you. I love everything about you. I even love you when you’re puking. If you’re pregnant, I’ll take very good care of you and Holden, so don’t worry about anything.”
She banged her head against his chest repeatedly until he laughed and stopped her by holding her tight against him.
“When can we find out for sure?” he asked.
“Tomorrow,” she said, her voice muffled by his shirt.
“I want to come.”
“You already did. That’s what got me into this mess.”
Owen roared with laughter, thrilled by her, by them, by their amazing life together. And now, maybe, another child… For a guy who’d grown up in the midst of violence and fear, life didn’t get any sweeter than this.
Chapter 9
Stephanie kept a watchful eye on Grant as he sat at the bar in her restaurant, pushing food around on his plate and nursing a beer. Under normal circumstances, he would’ve cleaned his plate and been on his second beer by now. He’d be shooting the shit with the other people at the bar, doing what he did best—telling stories. But tonight he kept his head down and didn’t engage with anyone, even the bartender Cissy, who’d become a friend to both of them.
Cissy caught Stephanie’s glance and sent her a questioning look.
Stephanie shrugged. She wished she knew what had him so withdrawn, but he wasn’t talking about it, at least not to her. She also wanted to know where he’d really been earlier. Had he heard that Abby was home and gone to see her?
That thought made Stephanie’s stomach hurt. Would he want Abby back now that she was single again? No. Of course not. He loves you, you ninny. He’s engaged to you. But what if— Stop it. Just stop.
“Hey, hon.” Her stepfather’s voice jarred her out of the disturbing thoughts. “Got a table for your dear old dad?”
“I thought you guys were cheating on me by going to Domenic’s tonight.”
Charlie chuckled. “Sarah had to work late, so we missed our reservation.”
“I feel so bad about that,” Sarah said as she joined them.
“I told you I don’t care where we go, as long as we go together.” Charlie raised his arm to put it around Sarah, and she flinched away from him.
When she realized what she’d done, she seemed horrified. “Sorry,” she muttered, her face flushing with embarrassment.
“Let’s try this again,” Charlie said, slowly raising his arm and looping it around her shoulders. “Better?”
Sarah nodded, and Stephanie led them to their table. She loved them together, two wounded souls finding comfort in each other. Speaking of wounded souls… She seated Charlie and Sarah and went over to the bar to try—again—to talk to Grant.
She slid onto the barstool next to him. “Do I need to be concerned about my chef?”
“What?”
She nodded to his plate, which was mostly untouched.
“Oh no. It’s amazing, as always. I’m just not very hungry.”
“We missed you at your mom’s for dinner.”
“Oh shit. I totally forgot about Adam’s welcome-home thing.”
“Everyone was worried when we couldn’t reach you.”
“Sorry. I was… I forgot.”
Stephanie didn’t mention how wildly out of character it was for Grant to miss an opportunity to spend time with his family, especially when most of them were there. She didn’t think he’d want to hear that right now. “You ready to go home?”
“Are you?”
“I could be.”
“Sure. Whenever you’re ready.”
He looked so tired that her heart ached for him. Whatever was keeping him awake at night was doing a number on him. She’d give anything to share his burden, but he wasn’t sharing, and she’d stopped asking to keep the peace. “Give me five minutes.”
Stephanie went to talk to her manager and hostess, putting them in charge for the rest of the evening with orders to call her if anything came up that they couldn’t handle. While she normally wouldn’t leave so early, she needed to spend some time with Grant.
She collected him from the bar, where he’d left a generous tip for Cissy.
“Have a good night, you guys,” Cissy said.
“You, too.”
As Stephanie drove them home, he didn’t say anything, and she left him alone, even though she churned with questions and worries she didn’t dare share with him.
At home, they dodged the boxes scattered throughout the living room and kitchen, a reminder of how much work still needed to be done at their new place. If only she could find some time to deal with it.
Grant went into the kitchen for a glass of water.
Stephanie followed and saw him pop a pill that he chased with the water. “What’re you taking?”
“Sleeping pill.” He turned to her, weariness clinging to him like a heavy blanket. “Desperate times…”
“Where’d you get it?”
“David.”
“So that’s where you were earlier?”
“Yeah. Sorry to have worried you.”
“Oh,” she said, blowing out a sigh of relief. At least he hadn’t been with Abby. “I thought…” She shook her head. “Never mind.”
“What did you think?”
She shook her head again. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Where did you think I was, Steph?”
“I didn’t know. No one knew. We were worried. We’ve been worried.”
“You didn’t think I was with someone else, did you?”
“I hoped not.”
He let
out a huff of indignation. “Really? I’m off your radar for a couple of hours, and you have me with another woman?”
“Not just any other woman.”
His brows knitted with confusion. “Who?”
“Abby’s home.”
His genuine surprise at that news was further comfort to Stephanie. “She is? With Cal?”
“Apparently, that’s over.”
“Huh. That’s surprising.” He met her gaze, his blue eyes dull and flat. “So you thought I might be with her.”
“It crossed my mind.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “Unbelievable.”
Stephanie’s stomach hurt, and her heart beat fast and erratic. “What am I supposed to think? You’ve been completely out of it since the accident, brooding in silence, not sleeping, not writing, not talking to me or anyone. And then you go missing the same day your ex-girlfriend returns to the island, suddenly single again. What would you think if you were me?”
“I wouldn’t think that! We’re engaged. I made a commitment to you. I’m not going to cheat on you the first chance I get. Give me some credit, will you?”
Stephanie wanted to scream and yell and pound her fists on his chest. Whatever it took to get him to tell her what had him so wound up in knots. For now, she was grateful he was talking to her about something. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have gone there.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.”
Her insecurities had caused them trouble in the past, and the last thing they needed now was more of that kind of trouble. “You know my weak spots. I can’t help that I go right to worst case.”
“Don’t go there. I’m not interested in her. I’m interested in you.”
Deciding to take a chance, Stephanie went to him and slid her hands over his chest and linked them behind his neck. “You’re interested in me?” she asked with her best teasing smile.
His lips formed the closest thing to a smile she’d seen since the accident. “You know I am. I love you.”
As his arms came around her, she wanted to sing hallelujah. “I love you, too. And I hate to see you hurting. I wish you’d talk to me, Grant. Tell me what happened out there. Let me help.”
His smile faded, and the remote expression returned. “I can’t. I just can’t.”
“The offer is on the table. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. Whatever you need, whenever you need it, you know where I am.”
He hugged her tightly as a deep sigh shuddered through him. “That helps, babe. Thank you.”
“Hold on to me.”
“I don’t want anyone but you, Steph. No matter what else may be going on, don’t worry about that, okay?”
“Okay.” She closed her eyes tight against the rush of emotion. It felt so good to be held by him, to be close to him, to breathe in the scent that was his and his alone. “Let’s go to bed.”
They got ready in silence, Stephanie watching him out of the corner of her eye as she brushed her teeth. At least her heart had stopped racing and her stomachache had let up at his words of love and reassurance. She’d take the partial victory.
Since the accident, they’d abandoned their usual sleep-naked-and-make-love-as-often-as-humanly-possible philosophy, but when she saw him get into bed unclothed, her heart skipped a happy, hopeful beat. She pulled her T-shirt over her head and dropped it into the hamper.
She slid in next to him, shivering from the chill of the sheets.
Grant reached for her and she snuggled into his embrace, sighing with pleasure as his warmth chased away the chill that had taken up residence in her bones during the long day he’d been missing—and stayed there during the long week since.
“Feels good,” she said.
“Mmm.”
“Do you want to, you know…” She didn’t know how to phrase it, because she’d never had to ask before.
“Tired.”
“Oh, okay.”
He squeezed her shoulder. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine.” She kissed his chest. “Everything is fine.” As she spoke, she ran her hand over his chest and belly, hoping to soothe him. “Grant?”
A big snore answered for him.
While Stephanie was relieved that he would finally get some rest, she was left feeling unsettled and lonely for him.
Abby wanted to die. Not because her head pounded from the tequila or because her mouth was drier than the Sahara Desert. No, she wanted to die because she remembered, in excruciating detail, telling Adam McCarthy about her orgasm issues.
Moaning, she rolled her face into the pillow. Maybe if she held her breath long enough, she could expire before she ever had to face him again. What in the world had led her to tell him that of all things?
And one of the men she’d been complaining about had been his brother, for God’s sake. “Oh, please… Take me. Take me right now. It’s been a good life, but I need to be put out of my own misery.”
She said the prayer and then waited for action. When nothing happened, she let out another moan and tried to remember how their conversation had gone from mutual sharing about what had gone wrong in their respective relationships to her telling him that.
It was his fault. He’d been far too sweet and willing to listen. He’d made it way too easy for her to spill her guts to him.
Taking one of the extra pillows from the bed, she placed it over her face and hugged it tightly with both arms. Was it even possible to suffocate oneself? She’d like to find out.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Adam. No. Please, God, make him go away! Where had he come from?
He yanked the pillow off her face. “What’re you doing?”
“Hiding from the sunlight.” She couldn’t look at him. She just couldn’t. He knew…things…about her that no one else knew. She’d told him her deepest, darkest secret. “What’re you doing here? How’d you get in?” As she said the words, the scent of coffee permeated her hangover and made her mouth water, which was a welcome relief from the dryness.
“I never left.”
“Oh. So…you…”
“Fell asleep.”
“Where’d the coffee come from?”
“Downstairs.”
“How did you get back in?”
“I took your key. Hid it in my boxer shorts.”
She couldn’t help the laugh the comment drew from her, even if she still wanted to die from the embarrassment of oversharing.
He held out a cup to her. “Since I don’t know how you like it, I took a chance with cream and sugar. Want some?”
Desperately. “Yes, please. Thanks.” Since she probably had Godzilla breath from the tequila, the coffee couldn’t make it worse, could it? And was it at all fair that he was drop-dead gorgeous in the morning? His hair was sexily mussed, while hers was plastered to her skull. The whiskers on his jaw only made him more ridiculously handsome than he was when freshly shaven. The DNA gods had blessed him and his brothers with far more than their fair share of sexiness. That was for sure.
Coffee in hand, he sat on the bed next to her, pillows at his back, and stretched out his legs.
Abby would never, ever admit to anyone that she’d always thought he was the most handsome of the four McCarthy boys. She’d thought so even when she’d been dating his brother and had often felt guilty for her scandalous thoughts. As gorgeous as Grant was, there was something about Adam that had always gotten to her, which was another of her deep, dark secrets—one she planned to keep to herself forever. Not that she’d planned to share the other one… Speaking of that, she felt the need to explain herself to him.
Don’t. You’ll only make it worse.
But I have to say something! How can I leave that hanging out there without at least an apology for oversharing?
You’ll only make it worse.
How? How is that possible?
“Adam.”
She caught him mid-sip. “Hmm?”
“What I said last night—”
&nbs
p; “I’ve been thinking about that all morning.”
Abby sucked a mouthful of coffee into her windpipe, which was promptly expelled all over the white comforter. Coughing and gagging, she tried to recover the oxygen that had been expelled from her lungs along with the coffee.
Adam dutifully patted her back until she stopped coughing and could breathe again.
“That was embarrassing.”
“Housekeeping isn’t going to be happy with you,” he said, surveying the disaster on the comforter.
“It’s your fault! How could you just say that like it was no big deal that you’d been thinking about what I told you?”
“Because it isn’t a big deal.”
“Maybe not to you, but did it occur to you that I wish I’d never told you?”
“I’m glad you did. How can I help you get to the bottom of it if I don’t know about it?”
“Wait… Help me?” A dazzling array of erotic images cycled through her addled brain as the words “get to the bottom of it” registered. “It’s none of your business!”
“I’ve decided to make it my business,” he said with a smug smile that made her want to punch that handsome face.
“Really. Well, as much as I appreciate your offer—”
“Don’t you want to hear my offer before you blow it off?”
“No! I most definitely do not want to hear your offer!”
“You disappoint me,” he said with a cluck of dismay. “And here I thought you were all Ballsy McBalls-A-Lot, ready for a big adventure.”
“Ballsy McWho? And for your information, I am ready, but I don’t see what it has to do with you.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Are you ready to listen?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Always.”
The earnest way he said the single word intrigued her. No matter what he might have in mind, the choice was hers. He’d never force himself on her. While she’d known that about him, the reminder was welcome in light of what she’d told him the night before. “Fine. What’s your big idea?”
