by Rhian Cahill
He gave her a nudge towards the lockers.
“What?” she asked as she stepped further into the room and glanced over her shoulder at him.
“The locker with my name on it. Grab my keys and meet me out front.”
Before Covington could utter a word, Tris was gone. She stood staring at the spot where he’d disappeared, confused and wondering if she should just wait until he returned. But the sound of running feet, shouting and the rumble of a fire engine coming to life snapped her out of her daze.
She found his locker easily enough. The keys were right in front next to his wallet—the one she’d given him last Christmas.
Scooping up the keys, Covington shut the metal door with an unintentionally loud clang and pondered the absence of a lock.
The screeching alarm cut off abruptly and a split second later the wail of a fire engine siren took its place.
Rushing back into the hall, she followed the noise to a large area where several men and the woman from the bathroom were pulling on gear and climbing aboard the two big red trucks.
The garage door had been rolled up and as Tris jumped onto one of the slowly moving fire engines he yelled at her.
“It’s the house with the green shutters about five minutes down the road. Eight-ninety-two.” He pointed to the right. “Text me when you get there so I know you’re safe. I’ll call when I can.”
Covington followed the trucks as they rolled out of the station. She stood on the driveway watching until they were long gone and the sirens had faded to nothing but a memory.
Glancing at the keys in her hand she thought about the last few minutes.
Seeing Tristan again hadn’t gone anything like she thought it would. For one thing, he didn’t seem at all angry with her. He’d offered her a place to stay and a reliable vehicle. He’d showed concern and given her comfort, told her everything would be fine.
Promised it would.
And she hadn’t told him he was the father of her babies.
Hell, she hadn’t actually told him she was pregnant, never mind that she was carrying twins and they were his.
Chapter 4
Tugging his vibrating phone from his pocket, Tris looked at the screen and grimaced. Switching the phone off, he ignored Gavin’s call for what felt like the millionth time. He thought he’d made himself clear the last time he’d actually answered.
Obviously his former friend chose to ignore his words or Gavin had found out Cov was here.
She’d told him yesterday they weren’t together and the baby wasn’t Gavin’s, and Tris didn’t think she would lie about either of those things.
He had no idea if Gavin had been attempting to get back with Cov for real or if he’d been blowing smoke up Tristan’s ass for months in the hope of rekindling their friendship.
What Gavin didn’t understand or, again, chose to ignore, was that Cov had nothing to do with Tristan severing their friendship.
It was Gavin’s actions that had done that. Cov just happened to be the woman Gavin had been engaged to when his ex-friend had shown his true colors.
The phone vibrated in his hand and this time Tris didn’t just reject the call, he switched the phone off completely. He wasn’t on call and his next shift was two days away.
Plus the only person in his life who might need to get hold of him whom he’d want to talk to was less than a hundred feet away tucked safe inside his house.
Dragging his weary body up the walk to the front door, Tris tried to remember where his Aunt Josie used to hide the spare key. Not that he was even sure it would still be there.
He hadn’t bothered to look for it when he’d first taken over the house after her death, and since he’d moved in, he hadn’t thought about it because he had the two sets of keys the real estate agent had returned to him.
Lindsey Hogan hadn’t been at all disappointed to lose his business when he’d told her he no longer wanted to let the place out as a holiday rental.
When she’d met him at the house three months ago, she’d been exactly as he remembered her from school—in spite of the cool sophistication she’d acquired in adulthood, she was surprisingly still warm and welcoming.
He’d run into her a number of times since then, and she always smiled and asked how he was settling in.
His ex-realtor wasn’t the only town member who greeted him with a smile and a chat. Then again, the people of Winter Lake really did want to know how he was doing.
When your aunt was born and bred here and a favored member of the community, you were greeted with acceptance and interest—like family, like you were one of them.
Since the first day he’d returned to Winter Lake, he’d felt at home. It helped that some of the kids—now adults—he’d hung out with in his misspent youth had remained in town.
Devlin, his closest friend then and now, still lived in the house next door.
Which was how he’d gotten home, seeing how the minute they’d returned from the fire yesterday afternoon, he’d called Larry from Lake Auto Repair to come and tow Cov’s death-trap of a car to the shop.
Larry had left with the directive to go from bumper to bumper, tires to roof, and write down everything wrong with the old Chevy. No sugar coating either. Tristan wanted to know if the car was salvageable or if he should start looking for something more appropriate—safer—for a future mother.
Larry had looked at the car, a frown marring his brow, and with a shake of his head, muttered, “There ain’t no sugar coating that,” before ambling over to the back of his tow truck.
Tristan was pretty sure he knew what the mechanic would tell him once he’d gone over Cov’s car. As much as she loved that vehicle, it was time to let it go.
Reaching the house, he started with the doormat then moved onto the flowerpots lining the porch in search of a key.
Perhaps he should give Cov his truck. It had a dual cab and four-wheel drive and one of the top safety ratings in the country. Perfect for navigating mountain roads with precious cargo on board.
“Hey.”
Glancing up he found Cov standing in the doorway. Waiting.
Straightening, he took her in and smiled.
Jesus, he could get used to that sight.
Especially when she was bundled up in one of his old fire department sweatshirts and a pair of his thick work socks.
The shirt was long on her and she’d pulled the socks up to her knees so only a few inches of her tiger patterned dance leggings showed between the two.
How a woman could look cute as a button and sexy as hell in one go was beyond him, but Cov pulled it off and he was pretty sure she wasn’t trying to be either.
One more thing he loved about her, she was completely genuine, none of the fakeness like a lot of the women of his acquaintance in LA where the need to be perfect was often taken to extremes. The fact Cov hadn’t succumbed to that trend with the industry she worked in was a miracle.
Grinning, he moved back toward the door and the woman who’d dominated his thoughts for what felt like forever. “Didn’t want to ring the bell in case you were sleeping.”
She frowned. “It’s after midday.”
“Is it?” He glanced at his watch, shocked to discover she was right. They’d had a call that took them into change of shift but he hadn’t realized it had gotten so late. “No wonder I’m tired.”
Fidgeting on her feet and wringing her hands, both nervous actions he hadn’t seen in her before, she asked, “Are you hungry? I could make you something for lunch. I hope it’s okay I helped myself to some of your food.”
“Cov, baby, what’s mine is yours. And while I should probably eat, I’m in more need of a shower and sleep. I’ll take a rain check though.”
“Oh, god.” She jumped back, bumping the door wide as she made room for him to enter the house. “It’s your house and I’ve kept you on the doorstep!”
Stepping inside, he chuckled at the fact they’d been having a conversation with him standing outside his ow
n front door. With a shake of his head, he turned toward his room. “I’ll grab that shower.”
“Um…”
When she didn’t continue, he glanced over his shoulder and saw she was shuffling her feet and twisting her hands again.
“What?” he asked as he stopped and turned to face her, giving her his full attention.
“I had to, um, sleep…” She shrugged. “You’ve only got one bed.”
“Oh, yeah. I cleared out all the old furniture when my stuff got here. I haven’t set up the other bedrooms yet.”
Filling the three-bedroom cottage had been the last thing on his to-do list after his furniture had been delivered. He probably should have kept some of what was in the house when he arrived, but Tris couldn’t stand the thought of using what strangers had used.
And he’d yet to go through the shed out back where his mother had stored his aunt’s things when he’d first inherited the place and put it up as a rental.
“Tris…”
“Give me a few minutes to shower. We’ll talk before I catch some Zs.”
Cov nodded. “Okay. Sure.” She looked away. “I’ll just…make a list of what I ate.”
“Jesus. Don’t do that.” He didn’t understand why she was so anxious with him; they’d never been on eggshells around each other but right now Cov looked as though she would shatter if he said boo. “Just put your feet up. I’ll be five minutes, tops.”
“I should replace—”
“No,” he countered with a shake of his head. “You shouldn’t.”
Before she could come up with another argument or something else to delay his shower, he strode down the hall and into the bathroom.
He knew they had things to discuss. Firstly, he wanted to know what she was doing here—why had she come to him? Then he wanted to know the name of the asshole who had knocked her up and left her to deal with the baby alone.
Not that who really mattered. Tris would step up for her and the baby.
He’d made that decision while lying sleepless in his bunk last night. He didn’t care who had fathered her baby; he would make sure neither of them went without.
As the child of a single mother, Tristan had seen firsthand how hard things could be. He didn’t want that for Covington. Or her child.
Between now and when the baby came, he’d convince Cov to marry him and put his name on the birth certificate under father.
It was the best option for both of them.
He could provide a safe place for them to live as well as healthcare. He had no idea if Cov had her own insurance, but he doubted it.
For as long as he’d known her, she’d only had the one long-term job and that had been a six-month contract, not exactly a permanent job or regular income.
He also had no idea how much she earned. Did she get paid per job or per hour? Did she have savings?
And what would happen now she was pregnant?
He didn’t think there would be much demand for pregnant dancers and as far as he knew Cov didn’t have any other qualifications.
Shucking his sweatpants and briefs, he reached into the shower stall and turned on the water.
The hot took forever to come through the old pipes and as much as he needed a wake up, he could do without freezing his nuts off.
The temp had dropped overnight to its lowest point this fall and the house was on the chilly side already.
He’d have to check the thermostat and furnace after he cleaned up.
He didn’t want Cov getting cold. With her thin LA blood, she was probably half frozen even though the temps had been quite warm for this time of year. Until now anyway.
And there was more cold weather coming according to the forecast. They were in for the first big snow dump of the season in three days. Right in the middle of his next shift.
He would have to make sure Cov had everything she needed before his forty-eight hour rotation began. He hated the thought of her attempting to navigate the snow-covered roads.
Actually, now that he thought about it, he didn’t think she’d ever seen snow before.
Jesus. It was a wonder she’d made it here at all. Between her death-trap of a car and the snow-covered roads, her arriving safe and sound was a miracle.
The thought of everything that could have gone wrong had him shuddering.
Steam rose as he yanked off his shirt and stepped under the spray. He’d be quick in spite of his desire to linger.
Now that he’d made up his mind about what they should do, he wanted to move forward with his plan. He had a lot to organize before he went back to work Saturday morning.
Cov would need a winter jacket and boots to start. He hadn’t seen either on her or in her car and she would never make it through winter without them. They needed to get her prepared for the cold months ahead.
He’d have to ask her about the rest of her stuff. Had she packed up her apartment?
He hadn’t looked in the trunk of her car and there hadn’t been a suitcase or boxes on the backseat…
Had she brought anything besides the clothes on her back with her? He knew by the tag still attached she’d bought her gloves somewhere along the way—probably the scarves too.
Why had she undertaken such a long, hard journey without being prepared?
So many questions.
It didn’t matter. She’d come to him and he had to believe she’d done so because she needed his help—wanted it.
Maybe it was the ‘hero complex’ his mother accused him of having, but Tristan felt it was his job to make sure Cov was okay. More than okay.
He wanted her to have everything she needed—anything she wanted.
And if that meant marrying her and being a father to her unborn child then he’d gladly step up and do it.
Chapter 5
Covington hadn’t been able to put her feet up as Tris directed.
She was like a kid on a sugar high bouncing around from room to room, not able to sit for more than a few seconds.
Dancing had always been her mode of coping with stress or anxiety, and she had plenty of both going on right now.
Unfortunately her go-to release valve was no longer an option because she’d completely lost her balance and rhythm since she’d fallen pregnant.
So now she walked.
Or fidgeted.
Or twitched.
It seemed the babies didn’t only hijack her hormones, they’d hijacked her nervous system too. And her brain. They’d rewired that somehow.
All around, she felt like one big pregnant idiot.
Why else would she sell everything she owned and drive over three thousand miles with nowhere to live?
Funny how she hadn’t questioned her decision until she’d driven out of LA just after sunrise at the start of the week.
Actually, it wasn’t until she’d crossed into Pennsylvania that she had started to second-guess her choices, and by then it was far too late to turn back, so she had sucked it up and kept going.
For the rest of the way she’d been on tenterhooks, and that nerve-wracking anxiety hadn’t lessened in spite of Tristan’s warm welcome and offer of accommodation.
It probably didn’t help that she still hadn’t told him the babies were his.
She’d been working up the nerve to reveal his part in her ‘condition’ since she let herself into his house last night.
Of course she’d gotten a little distracted when she’d fallen into his bed. The soft sheets smelled like him and suddenly she had other things on her mind.
Snuggling in, she had spent half the night reminiscing, the other half dreaming.
Her memories—and dreams—of their one night together were so vivid that when she had woken this morning, she’d thought the last four months hadn’t happened, that she hadn’t kicked Tris out of her bed, and rolled over with a smile that had died on her lips when she discovered the space beside her empty.
The pillow undented by Tristan’s head.
All the anxiety that had dis
appeared in the comfort of Tris’s bed had come rushing back. The deluge would have crippled her if she hadn’t already been lying down.
And typical of recent weeks, the waterworks had started—the ones in her eyes and the one between her legs—and she’d cried her way to the bathroom and gone through a whole roll of toilet paper.
The man didn’t skimp on toilet paper, thank goodness, because he certainly didn’t buy tissues. There wasn’t a box in the house. She knew because she’d searched.
He didn’t really have much and while the house was warm and comfy, it didn’t quite feel lived in. Then again, he hadn’t been here long; if her information was right, he only moved in three months ago.
Even with the bareness of the rooms—two of them completely empty—the place still felt like his. She could feel him in every room. It helped take the edge off her nerves.
Amazing how until now she’d never noticed how much Tristan’s presence settled her. Well, when she wasn’t stressing over telling him he was going to be a dad anyway.
Although if she were honest, her stress levels had changed ever since she’d set eyes on him yesterday.
Yes, she was worried about his reaction to their impending parenthood, but if she dug deep, really looked at it, she knew he’d stand by her; it was the reason he’d do it that had her concerned.
She wanted his help because he wanted to help her, not only because he’d knocked her up.
Which was stupid because if he hadn’t knocked her up she wouldn’t need his help.
Sighing, she stared at the list she’d put together. If she concentrated on what they needed, her mind might stop spinning in circles around things she had no way of predicting or fixing on her own.
A shopping list she could deal with.
Right on top were tissues, then eggs and milk and cheese. Fruit and veggies and meat.
Tris had a well-stocked pantry but his fresh produce was minimal and she needed to keep her diet balanced or she risked her and the babies’ health.
Her pregnancy might be completely unexpected, but Covington wasn’t about to put the babies in danger. Especially when she’d lost so much weight in the first few weeks. She needed to be sure she looked after all three of them from now on.
