Page 37 of Christmas with the Baby Daddy

All night, I’d felt the burn of his stare on me. I’d been a klutz all night because of his direct attention.

But he wasn’t staying. He saw no purpose to linger in town. I couldn’t guess at his intentions, but the moment I was buckled into his truck and rubbing my hands over the heat vents on the dash, I had to ask.

“Zach?”

He faced me as he steered his truck out of the lot. The streetlamps cut shadows over his rugged face, and I couldn’t help but stare at how lean and strong he was, even in his face. His neck. The beard did something too, but I hadn’t ever realized how sexy they were.

“Yeah?”

“What’s your game?” I asked, blunt but letting him hear the surprise in my voice. “You… you insert yourself into catering this party tonight. You jump at the chance to take me home…”

He licked the corner of his lips, not looking at me for a long moment.

“So…what’s your game? What’s going on here?”

Why would you want to be with me?

“No game,” he replied honestly. “I’m not playing a game with you, Blake.”

But…?

“I’m…” He blew out a deep breath as he drove, calm in appearance, but he was too tense and taut for me to believe he was relaxed. “I’m attracted to you. Since I came back and saw you… I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Oh, God.

I licked my lips, straining to swallow. My mouth was so dry, and too many emotions clogged my throat to clear it. Desire. Yearning. Nervousness. And disbelief. He couldn’t possibly mean it.

Not a word. Not one word from him after we mutually crossed the line that shouldn’t have been trespassed. I was supposed to always be off-limits to him, younger, the sister of his best friend. He was supposed to remain untouchable to me, away in the military, never wanting to be home. We’d both erred that one night, resulting in such a sweet miracle of a child, but he hadn’t reached out a single time.

I hadn’t either, but I’d had my reasons. Like hiding that he’d fathered a son he couldn’t have wanted with his tunnel-vision goal of being in the services.

He couldn’t stop thinking about menow? Just because he was here and I conveniently crossed paths with him? I was on his mind just now? Not before?

If he’d been so stuck on me all these years that I was raising George on my own, why didn’t he visit? Why didn’t he call? Text? Ask Jenny or Amanda about me?Anything!

Doubt clouded my mind as I tried to reconcile what he said and what had happened. He might be attracted to me right now, because he was here and so was I, but if he hadn’t been discharged and come home, this wouldn’t be happening. He’d continue to forget I existed.

“Blake?” he asked quietly as he turned into my driveway.

“I—” I blinked and shook out of my reverie, realizing I’d gone silent.

He braked and put the truck in park. When he turned off the engine and gave me a long look, I damn near melted at the desire swarming in his deep blue eyes.

Oh, fuck.That look. I breathed faster as I sat there, watching him get out of the truck and round it to open my door.

He reached for my hand, but this time, it felt like a charged gesture. This time, prodded along by the idea that I could act on this all-consuming desire he ignited in me, I didn’t want to let go.

“I’ve never forgotten about that night,” he said as he walked me to the door.

“Me neither.” It wasn’t like I could’ve forgotten when the result of that night was born six months afterward.

“One night of… passion.”

Passion and so many orgasms I knew he’d single-handedly ruined me for any other man.

“But that night, it was just the grief talking,” I corrected.

He stopped at the door, releasing my hand as I unlocked it. “Is that an excuse this time?”

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