by Kate Meader
He placed a hand on her shoulder, a finger under her chin. “Elle, I would never think that.”
Her eyes flashed. “Well, you should! You should be suspicious of every woman in your orbit. You’re the perfect mark: rich, hot, famous, and gullible as all hell.”
“Gullible? How so?”
“You fell for this, didn’t you?” She waved a dismissive hand over her body. “Only a super nice innocent like you would think I’m worth bothering with.”
This was a side of Elle Theo hadn’t expected to see. She’s never struck him as the self-loathing type and he didn’t like it. “So, I’m guessing those preggo hormones are already kicking in because excuse me for saying, you sound like a crazy person right now. I thought you were worth bothering with because you’re a hot, sexy woman who says it like it is and played hard to get and that’s pretty much my catnip. Yeah, I’m super nice but innocent? Not in the slightest. I have very dirty thoughts about you on a regular basis and I don’t regret a single thing about what happened here.”
She gusted out a breath, clearly seeking calm. “I’m pregnant, Theo. I’m carrying your angel spawn. And I am not in any way prepared to be a mom. My life is a mess, I’m barely getting by, and now I have to be responsible for another living being? This is a disaster.”
“Have a seat, Ellie.”
“Theo—”
“Now.”
She blinked at the force of his order, but immediately sat. The only other thing to sit on was one of those step stools. A little snug with his many-muscled ass, but it would have to do. He moved in close so their knees touched and he could hold both her hands. “We’re both responsible. Surprise pregnancies are always going to be scary. I know because I once was one. Now, technically I don’t remember how that felt—”
“Well, technically it didn’t happen to you.”
He continued, undeterred by pesky logic. “But I do remember what it felt like later because my sperm donor didn’t stick around.” Nick Isner had headed off to Harvard, leaving his family to pay off the girl he’d knocked up. Even when he had a chance to do the right thing, he’d failed. That would not be happening here.
“You’re not alone. I’m with you every step of the way, on board with whatever decision you make.”
“Even if I don’t keep it? Or maybe that’s what you want? It would make things easier all around.”
He wasn’t sure about that. A part of him would always wonder, what if. But he didn’t want to pressure her into one decision or the other.
“We have time. Maybe a few weeks? No decision has to be made immediately but I’m down with whatever you want. I’ll be as involved as you want me to be on whichever path you choose. We’re lucky that we don’t have to consider the economics here. Money’s sorted, so we can put that aside as a—what do you call it?”
“Confounding factor?”
He smiled. “Right, confounding factor. It’s gone. I know you’re worried about how to earn a living and how a baby might figure into that. You want to go back to school and a kid would definitely make that tougher. But not impossible. If you decide to keep it, then I’ll support you financially and emotionally. You’re my baby mama.”
“Theo—”
“Or if you want to terminate, I’ll support you through that as well,” he cut in, realizing that the term “baby mama” was loaded to the max. “You have to do what’s best for you.”
Her expression was one of shock, like she’d never been offered that before. This was her body and her decision, though it did have him thinking about his own mom—sixteen, terrified, knocked up by the high school fucking quarterback. Luckily she’d had Aurora to support her through it, but if she hadn’t? If she’d been on her own like Elle seemed to be, what then? The Rebels wouldn’t have the best defense in the NHL, that’s what.
But he couldn’t let that influence what happened here. Elle was her own person.
“I—I need to think about it,” she said. “I don’t want you to feel obligated.”
“Too late for that.” But he smiled so she wouldn’t think he felt trapped. Pregnant. He’d done that. A swell of pride was building in him now that the initial shock had worn off. “What I mean is that whichever way it goes, I’m on the hook for taking care of you, and if necessary, a kid until he turns eighteen. By then, he should have figured out what he wants or be really good at something like his dad and—”
“Oh, God, you’ve already raised him and thrown him out of the house.”
He chuckled, feeling foolishly giddy. He was just kidding about what would happen when the kid turned eighteen. He would love and care for and support that child forever—if it came to that.
He squeezed her hands, then realized he’d been holding them the whole time. He liked being this close to her for non-sexy reasons. Sexy ones, too. Just in general.
And if she decided to keep the baby, would he like that then? His gran would know what to do.
“What?” she asked. “You look like something horrible occurred to you.”
“Not horrible. Just thinking about my grandmother and how she’s going to react.”
“You might not have to tell her.”
True. “Thing is, I tell her most everything. And then she tells the girls who put it on Facebook. They have a group.”
“That Tarts thing? Maybe don’t tell anyone yet. Levi and Jordan will stay quiet and you can tell the guys that he was upset about you sleeping with me.”
Would they believe that? Probably. “Okay, I’ll keep it to myself.”
“I mean it, Theo. No one can know.” Her eyes implored his cooperation. “Once it gets out, that changes how we go forward. I’ll feel pressured because everyone will think I’m a cold-hearted bitch if I don’t go through with the pregnancy.”
He curled a hand around the nape of her neck and pulled her close, his lips brushing like a whisper across her forehead. “I won’t breathe a word until you’re ready. It’s the two of us in this.” The two of us. That sounded nice and cozy and couple-y. He was such a sap.
And this sap might soon be a daddy.
10
Elle had never been so popular, not even during the fifth grade when she brought in chocolate cupcakes with kitten whiskers icing. (The popularity lasted all of ten minutes as the cupcakes had been overdosed with salt by her mother who lacked in all things maternal.)
This morning, everyone wanted to talk to her. All Elle wanted was to gently hug the toilet bowl and tell it all her secrets.
First, from Jordan: How are you? We need to make a doctor’s appointment so you can get all your options. I’ve done some research … followed by a list of OBs.
Next came Levi, practical to the core: Let me know if you need anything. Groceries, chocolate, cyanide for Kershaw, etc.
With fabulous timing, even her sister chimed in: You can’t hide forever.
Huh. Watch me. If anything assured her that she should not go through with this, it was a reminder that her wolf pack of a family existed.
The one person she’d have liked to hear from was strangely incommunicado. She wanted everyone to leave her alone, but she wouldn’t mind a dumb text from Kershaw—he’d asked for her number last night after all.
Her phone rang and she sighed at the name on the screen. She’d been avoiding calls from her sister for months as she tried to build her new life—and look how fabulously that had worked out. But right now, Elle needed to hear from someone who knew her—the real her—even if she couldn’t actually tell her sister the specifics.
She clicked accept. “Hey.”
“Hey?” Amelia said. “That’s all you’ve got after four months of cowardice?”
Amy was definitely the most dramatic twin. Being five minutes older, she’d sucked all the oxygen out of the room when she exited Mom’s uterus.
“You know I did the right thing,” Elle said. “He was in love with you!”
“Uh, yeah, that was the point and how the family makes a living, sis. Love, marr
iage, empty the joint accounts, and move on to the next sucker. We were doing pretty well while you were on your high and mighty God Bless America tour in the army.”
Elle closed her eyes. Her sister didn’t know any better. All her life, she’d been raised to believe a dollar scored was better than a dollar earned. Honest work was for suckers, and one was born every minute.
“I needed to do something for me.”
“Sure, but no one said you should interfere in long-running strategies the minute you discharge. Dad’s still pissed at you.”
Elle’s heart squeezed. She loved her family but she didn’t love how they earned a crust. In olden times, people called it grifting. These days, plain old con artist would do—though her father insisted he was a con artiste. That ‘e’ denotes our skill, Eloise. As if they were descendants of old acrobatic performers and theirs was a dying art.
She’d enlisted because she couldn’t take being part of the scamming anymore. It was time to give back, be useful, perform a duty that might somehow mitigate all the crap from before. She’d done things she was ashamed of, and yes, some of the marks deserved it. Too horny, too greedy, too willing to look for a shortcut. Half of them were criminals themselves so she could almost justify some of the cons.
But when she was invited to her sister’s wedding four months ago and saw how devoted the groom was, how naïve, and in the not so distant future, how poor, she had to act. Telling him enough to scare him off was a betrayal of her family. She knew that. She hated that.
“So, are you going to tell me where you are?”
Elle grimaced. “I’m just taking a break from all the drama.”
“Like you did in the army? Running away from who we are. Who you are.”
“That’s not how I want to live my life, Ames.” She wanted something of her own. For a brief moment of insanity, she’d indulged in that want with the hottest guy on the planet and now she was being punished for it. “So how are things?”
“The usual. Dad’s running a few bump-and-pay-up, just penny-ante stuff.” Schemes where someone braked quickly and forced a fender-bender. They worked best when the mark wanted to handle it outside their insurance company. “I’m crawling the business section, checking my stocks.”
Stocks were what Amy called her speculative investments—guys she took a closer look at to see if they were worth pursuing. A marriage con was a long game, though usually they tried not to let it go that far. It was easier to get paid off, usually through blackmail or extortion, than deal with the paperwork of a divorce.
Melancholy gripped her, bone-deep sorrow for how they’d been raised. “Ames, do you ever think there has to be something else? Another path you could take?”
“Like you did?” Her voice softened, not laced with her usual mockery. “I’m not like you, Elle-Belle. Mom always said you didn’t have the stomach for the biz, but she was wrong. You’re tougher than all of us. It’s almost harder to make that choice, to go against what you know and strike out on your own. I could never do that. I’m only good … at this.”
Elle’s heart sank. “That’s not true. You could do anything, be anything. No one’s locked into one fate.”
“Perhaps.” Her sister sighed. “Perhaps I’ll come visit—wherever you are.”
Elle stiffened, on alert once more. She wanted to encourage her sister to use her talents for good but placing her in Theo’s orbit right now would be a temptation her grifter brain would be unable to resist.
“Maybe in a while. I do miss you,” Elle said. “I know you’re angry with me—that you all are—but I do miss you.” She just couldn’t be near them now, but mostly she couldn’t let them within a ten-mile radius of Theo. If they found out what she’d done and the mistake she’d made, they’d be all over him, ready to squeeze the man dry.
If he knew what she was, he’d think the obvious: gold digger.
Before they’d conceived a life, she wouldn’t have cared about that, but now? The sooner she removed the problem, the sooner she could get on with her plans.
“I know you’re mad. I just thought I’d answer your call so you don’t worry.”
“Well, I was worried. As if I don’t have enough on my plate.”
Elle snapped to attention. Amy sounded … off. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing you can help with unless you’ve got a spare twenty grand lying around.”
“Let me check the seat cushions.”
“Ha ha.” Said without any trace of amusement. “Miss you, too, Elle-Belle.” Her sister clicked off.
Elle blew out a weary breath and pressed her fingers to her eyes to stave off tears. Hormonal, that’s what she was.
Her intercom buzzer sounded. Probably Jordan or Levi trying to be good friends. Better friends would ignore her until this was all over.
What did she want? She rubbed a hand over her stomach. On the outside, nothing had changed, more like her traditional food baby than an actual baby. But whatever was in there wanted to make itself known. She retched, but nothing came out. She’d already unloaded half an English muffin and a cup of green tea. She didn’t even like green tea but coffee probably wasn’t good for the sprog.
The buzzer went again. They’d call Tina to get access if she didn’t answer.
She answered. “Yeah?”
“It’s Theo.”
Oh. Her heart fluttered, or maybe it was further down. She wanted to think it was much further down but it was more the stomach/baby vessel area that liked the sound of that. This kid was already sucking up to Daddy.
She pressed the button to let him in and opened the door.
He bounded up the stairs like a herd of rhinoceri, and just the sight of him with a big grin made her teary. Rather than give in to that, she steeled her spine and snapped, “It’s too early for a decision, Kershaw.”
“I know that!” He held up a plastic Walgreen’s bag. “We didn’t get a chance to talk about how you’re feeling physically. In case you have morning sickness, I brought over supplies.”
“You did?” Surprised, she stood back to let him in.
“Yep.” He looked around, keen eyes assessing her hovel and no doubt finding it wanting as the future home of Baby Kershaw. “So this is your place?”
“Sure is.” She’d not done much to brighten it up, preferring to spend most of her time in the bar so she could save enough for when she needed to move on. She’d been building her oh-shit fund for such an eventuality.
Theo turned to her, his expression open and non-judgmental. “How are you feeling?”
Like I’ve betrayed the people of my heart. Like I’ve made a mess of everything. Like I really need a hug and your arms look perfect.
Knowing that relying on Theo for comfort was what got her into this pickle in the first place, she wrapped her arms around her body. Self-love was her best option. “A little queasy. I just threw up though, so I’ll probably be okay for a while.”
He looked like he wanted to … hug her, perhaps? The inclination evidently passed. “I did some research on morning sickness and bought this stuff.” He emptied the bag of purchases onto the coffee table: pre-natal vitamins, mints, lemon-scented lotion, ginger, candy, and a tiny plush toy.
A purple dinosaur.
She picked it up. “This is supposed to be good for morning sickness?”
“Oh, that.” He took it from her hand and positioned it on the table it so it faced her mid-roar, then took a seat on her sofa, a careworn piece she’d found in an alley two blocks over. “I saw it in the drug store and—well, you might remember, I like dinosaurs.”
“How could I forget those dino-briefs?”
“And how could I forget your mating call?” He cupped his mouth and yelled, “Teee-Rexxxxx!”
Her palms flew to her burning cheeks. “I can’t believe that came out of my mouth.”
“That mouth was quite the surprise all right.”
Heat swirled between them, delicious and dangerous. She would say it was a problem e
xcept the disaster had already occurred.
Dragging her gaze away from his, she blinked at the rest of his offerings. “Sour patch candy?”
“Yeah, sour tasting things can help. Ginger will settle the stomach. Mints, for obvious reasons. If those don’t work, I’ve also booked a session with an acupuncturist. And I have the team’s nutritionist on call so we can discuss a plan. Some of the research says that smoothies are a good way to keep hydrated and full, but not too full. There’s also an exercise regimen—”
“Theo.” Elle held up her hand. “An acupuncturist? A nutritionist? You told someone else on the team about this?”
“Not yet. I just told her that I might need some tweaking to my nutrition plan. I swear, this is undercover until we—you—make a decision.”
He took the sour patch candy package and ripped it open with those big, beautiful, magic-producing hands. But then again, those hands had also gotten them into trouble so she really should be mad at them. Those awful, baby-making, orgasms-in-their-fingertips hands …
He offered her candy. “Come on, Elle, have a seat. Let’s chew and chat.”
She sat a couple of feet away from him. Chewing the candy, she told herself she felt better, but it wasn’t the candy. It was Theo, taking charge when she felt like she was spiraling.
She never would have expected it. He’d make a great dad one day, just not in seven months. Because she couldn’t do it to him. Involve him in all her mess.
But neither could she say it yet. He was here, as excited as a puppy with his morning sickness solutions and his acupuncturist appointments and his heart-stopping smile.
“What did you want to talk about?”
He scrunched up his mouth, looked at the ceiling, and let out a long humming noise, which made her laugh. What else could they possibly talk about? There was only one, crazy, life-changing thing.
“My grandmother wants to meet you.”
