Page 40 of His Captor

I just glowered at him.

In a way, he was right. I had been pining for Mace since the weekend in Port Lucia. It wasn’t just about the stellar sex either. Something deep within me felt like I’d met my soulmate in Mace.

But the logical part of me—yes, it existed, shut up—wondered if I was being overly romantic. Maybe it was the hormones. Maybe I was so scared to be a single papa that I was clinging to a fantasy to make myself feel better.

Or maybe Mace really was my soulmate. Maybe some sort of embryonic bond had started to form between us along with a baby, but I had screwed up and broken that when I’d gotten on a plane and flown off to the other side of the country.

“I’ve messed a lot of things up in my life,” I murmured to Simon as I licked my ice cream down to where I could bite the cone. “I can’t be a screw-up anymore now.” I rested a hand on my belly, indicating the reason why.

“You’re not a screw-up, Hayden,” Simon said with a brotherly smile. “You’re just a handful.”

I was going to come back with the perfect reply, but before I could, I spotted Mace, of all people, walking towards us. He carried a small shopping bag and wore a look of fierce determination that had my insides pulsing and my cock taking notice.

At the same time, all of the uncomfortable, guilty, confused feelings I had pushed me into a panic reaction.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded, hormones and the innate need to protect my baby causing me to sound way too aggressive. “Are you following me home now?”

Mace stopped with a jerk, his eyes going wider as he saw me. The fact that he hadn’t noticed me until I spoke immediately negated my accusation of him following me.

“I live here,” he answered with just as much tension as I’d used addressing him.

My stomach sank with embarrassment. Well, as much as it could sink with my innards crowded with baby.

“You live here?” I asked, a little more sheepishly.

“Yes,” Mace answered. “While I’m searching for a house.”

“I live here, too,” I said.

Mace gaped at me for a moment.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Simon said like we were at one of our parents’ cocktail parties. He set down his coffee cup and stood, extending his hand. “I’m Simon Kipling, Hayden’s older brother, and I apologize.”

“For what?” I asked, then bit into my ice cream cone, determined to finish it before getting into whatever confrontation I could feel brewing.

“For you,” Simon said with a sideways look to me, then smiled at Mace as they shook hands.

“Nice to meet you,” Mace said, relaxing a little.

His relaxed smile faltered a moment later, and he went tense again and cleared his throat.

“I assume your brother has explained the situation?” he asked.

“He has,” Simon said in an even tone. “I can assure you, Hayden is not as much of an idiot as he’s making himself out to be. I think we would all be glad to have your help and involvement in the baby’s life.”

“Hey!” I protested. “You don’t get to make that decision for me.”

“Consider it a strong suggestion, then,” Simon said. He then looked at his watch in what was clearly a ploy, then said, “Look at the time. I have somewhere else I need to be. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Canton.”

“Mace, please,” Mace said as Simon gathered up his phone and satchel, gave me a look, then marched off.

Mace and I both watched him go for a few seconds, then Mace looked back at me.

“He seems nice. Protective,” he said.

“He’s an interfering git,” I said sullenly, looking sadly at the napkins on the table that were all that remained of my ice cream.

Mason shifted to sit in the chair Simon had vacated, putting his grocery bag on the table. He jumped right into it. “Are you angry with me?”

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