Page 25 of Teasing a King

I blink at her a few times. “It’s called the feast for a reason,” I say. “It’s a lot of food.”

She shrugs. “I’m eating for two.”

I nod and start punching the restaurant’s number into my phone. “As you wish.”

Mya goes back upstairs to unpack some more while we wait for the food to arrive. It’s a good thing too. I need that time to pull myself together. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Mya has been in my house for only a few hours and I’m already obsessing over her every move. I feel like an awkward teenager who can’t control his own body. I need to get a handle on this, or Wyatt is right. I’m screwed.

By the time the doorbell rings signaling the arrival of dinner, I’ve managed to gain some semblance of control. That lasts until Mya walks downstairs in a pair of cotton shorts and a baggy t-shirt. It’s not a sexy outfit. At least, it shouldn’t be. The t-shirt turns her upper half into a shapeless mass. But those shorts tease me by showing off her gorgeous legs. Just the sight of them has my imagination running wild. I’m beginning to realize that with Mya, there’s no such thing as unsexy. She could be wearing a paper sack and somehow make it look delectable. It’s going to be a very long year.

We have dinner at my small kitchen table, laughing and talking over foil dishes filled with tacos, guacamole and more tortilla chips than two people could eat in a lifetime. True to her word, Mya demolishes the Ultimate Taco Feast.

“Impressive,” I say, looking at her empty takeout container.

Mya leans back, wiping her mouth with a paper napkin. “Thanks,” she says with a sigh. “Tacos are my weakness.”

I return the smile. “Good to know.”

I start to clear away the empty cartons and bags from our dinner, reaching across the table to take Mya’s empty container. She surprises me by reaching out a hand to stall mine. I meet her gaze, a question in my eyes. Mya smiles.

“It just occurred to me that I never thanked you,” she says.

My brows furrow in confusion. “For what?”

“For being so great with all of this,” she says softly.

I roll my eyes and go back to gathering up the empty food cartons. “Yeah,” I scoff. “I was super understanding when I shoved my whole foot in my mouth the day you told me.”

She shakes her head. “That’s not what I mean. You were sort of in shock that day, remember? Anyone would have been. You should have seen my freak out when I found out.” She laughs and shakes her head. “I was a mess. Trust me.”

She waves a hand. “But that’s not what I mean. I mean everything after that. Bringing me into your family, into your home. Most men wouldn’t have done that.”

Her voice is soft, almost unsure as she continues. I stop clearing the table, understanding suddenly that this is important to her.

“Lots of men would have told me to go to hell, or not believed me,” she says. “Or, even if they did believe me, they’d deny it or not even care.”

I feel my anger flare. “I’m not one of those men,” I say in a hard voice. “I could never abandon my child or that child’s mother.”

She nods. “I see that now,” she says. “I really didn’t think you were that sort of man. But it’s not always easy to trust someone. I’m happy to find out I was right about you.” She shrugs. “Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks for everything you’re doing. It’s more than you had to.”

I shake my head. “It’s not,” I say. With a bemused grin, I shake my head. “To be honest, when you told me you were pregnant, I panicked. The first thing I thought was how everything was going to change. I’d have to be responsible for another person. The rest of my life flashed before my eyes in a second. Part of me was terrified. I guess anyone would be. But by the time I got into my car to come after you, something else was there, pushing aside the fear. You want to know what?”

Mya nods.

I take a deep breath. I don’t know why I’m telling her all this. It’s something I’ve only just realized myself. But I trust her not to ridicule me or think I’m crazy. Besides, we’re both in this together, right? We’re both about to become parents.

“Peace,” I say. “Certainty. I knew without a doubt that this is what I’m supposed to be doing. That this baby is going to change my life for the better. Yes, it’s scary. And I have no idea how to be a dad. I’ll probably suck at it. I doubt I’ll ever truly be ready. But I think maybe being a father is my purpose.” I shrug, self-conscious. “I know that sounds crazy.”

Mya shakes her head quickly. “No,” she says. “It doesn’t sound crazy at all. I think I know how you feel.”

She doesn’t elaborate, but I can see understanding in her brown eyes. She holds my gaze for a moment longer before turning back to the mess on the table. We clear the table together and I’m struck by how different this is from my usual nights at home. I can’t remember the last time I sat at this kitchen table for dinner. I rarely have guests over. When I have dinner with my family, it’s usually at Mack’s on a Sunday evening. Since Quinn moved in with Ronan, they sometimes have everyone over to their house on the beach for a barbeque. But mostly, I eat dinner while watching TV on the couch.

“What’s that smile about?” Mya asks, pulling me from my musings. I hadn’t even realized I’d been smiling.

I shake my head. “I was just trying to remember the last time I ate dinner at this table,” I say. “Maybe the day it was delivered? I don’t know.”

Mya’s brows raise. “You mean you haven’t had anyone over to the house since you moved in?”

“The family has been by to see it,” I say. “But if you’re asking me if I’ve hosted a dinner party, the answer is no.” I huff out a laugh.

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