Page 11 of Back in the Texan's Bed
“You play for a few, then we’ll eat banana pancakes.” She stood and, taking his tiny hand in hers, led him to the corner of the living room with a trunk full of his toys. After removing a couple of trucks and making sure he was entertained, she inhaled a deep breath that did absolutely nothing for her nerves and turned to face Ross. Jerking her head toward the foyer, she said, “Over here.”
She didn’t wait for him to agree but strode out of the living room and returned to the small entryway. There would be questions; one glance in his glacial gaze and she could practically see the suspicion crowded there. But she wouldn’t have this conversation within earshot of her son.
“I thought he was a baby,” Ross murmured, but she didn’t mistake that low tone for calm. Not when she noted the thunder rumbling underneath. “And you let me think that.”
She didn’t wilt under the dark accusation in his voice. Didn’t flinch from it. It wasn’therfault that he’d assumed she had an infant instead of a toddler.
Ross shifted his stare away from her and back to the living room. Silence descended between them, and in the cramped foyer, the weight of it threatened to crush her. Again, she fought the urge to jump in between them, guard her son from that razor-sharp speculation, that ice-cold face. She silently ordered her arms to remain by her sides instead of wrapping around her torso in a telltale, too vulnerable gesture of self-preservation.
“How old is he?” he snapped, the frost melting under the steam of the heat throbbing in that deep, raw timbre.
“Ben is two,” she replied, reaching for and clinging to a calm that was as fake as the flowers in the vase behind her.
“Two,”Ross rasped, still not removing his eyes from the little boy who crashed trucks together, complete with sound effects. Blissfully ignorant to the jarring tension that hissed and popped just feet away from him. “The eyes,” he continued in that same hoarse voice that almost hurt her ears. “They’re you. The hair, the skin, they’re...”They’re both of us, she silently finished for him. Skin just a shade darker than his light brown curls—curls that were softer than hers but a little coarser than Ross’s hair. Ben was a beautiful melding of his genetics and hers. “But his face, his features... It’s like looking at a picture of me as a kid.”
She still didn’t say anything as he sussed out who Ben was to him. Instead, she stood silent as he swung his attention back to her, stoically witnessing the succession of emotions that marched through his expression. Shock. Disbelief. Rage. And something not as simple, but just as dark and powerful. But then the rage returned, capsizing everything else until lightning flashed in the sky blue of his eyes. The fury tautened the skin over his cheekbones, his jaw, until the bones seemed ready to slice through. His sensual mouth flattened, tightened until only a cruel slant remained.
“Is he my son?” he growled. “And think carefully before you answer me, Charlotte. Especially since the evidence is staring me in the face. Don’t lie to me.”
“Why would I need to lie to you?” She notched up her chin, defiant, but unable to quell the shiver jetting down her spine, vibrating through her. “Ben is yours.”
If possible, his eyes brightened, so hot with fury that her skin bore the brunt of that heat.
“You didn’t think I had a right to know? If I hadn’t shown up here today, would you even have deigned to inform me that the sonI didn’t know existedlived in the same goddamn town as me?”
“Lower your voice and watch your mouth,” she snapped, and even though every self-protective instinct in her roared a warning to keep her distance, she shifted closer to avoid even the chance of Ben overhearing them. “And the answer is no, I wouldn’t have told you. Don’t try to turn this around on me,” she hissed, her own hurt and anger burning through the coolness of her tone to leave it trembling. God, she hated that it trembled. She hated any sign of weakness in front of this man. The last time she’d betrayed her vulnerability with him, he’d shut her down.Rejectedher. He would never get the chance again. “You decided you didn’t want him, didn’t want to upset your life with the inconvenience of a baby. So I don’t owe you a damn thing, nor do we need anything from you. I made the decision to become both mother and father to him, so you don’t get to act the victim now.”
“What the hell are you talking about? You never—” He shook his head, his hand slashing between them. “Not here. And not now. I don’t give a fuck what you believe your reasons were to lie and keep my son away from me. Just so it’s clear, thereisn’ta good enough reason,” he snarled.
“To protect my son from being hurt is a damn excellent reason. The best,” she hurled back.
“Protect him from his father?” A quicksilver emotion flashed in his eyes, and if she’d believed Ross capable of feeling anything beyond lust, pride and self-gratification, she might’ve called it pain. His face hardened further, and he shifted backward. As if being in such close contact with her disgusted him.
Screw. Him.
And screw herself for that thin sliver of pain that slid between her ribs and buried right in her heart.
“I want a DNA test done.”
She tilted her head to the side, arching an eyebrow. “I thought he was the image of you as a child. Now you’re questioning his paternity. That turnaround was quick,” she drawled, offended that he would dare doubt Ben.
Dare doubt me.
The shifty, taunting whisper brushed across her mind before she could smother it. No, she didn’t care if he doubted her. She didn’t care how he thought about her at all, because he didn’t matter.
Only Ben did.
His lip curled into a derisive sneer. “I don’t question whether he’s mine. It’s you and your motives that I have zero trust in. So before I can make my next move, I need concrete,legalproof that he’s mine so you can’t deny me access to him.”
Her breath stalled in her throat, and she stumbled back. On a low curse, Ross moved, reaching for her, but she batted away his hands, forcing her knees to strengthen, willing every ounce of the meager strength she retained to her legs.
Though so much fear poured through her that she ached with it, she managed to speak the dreaded words. “What is that supposed to mean?” she pressed. “Before you make your next move?”
His gaze crystallized, and his big, lean body straightened so he seemed to loom larger. More intimidating. “I’ll be in touch, Charlotte. Word of advice—don’t even consider pulling another vanishing act like you did three years ago. This time I will follow.”
With those ominous words echoing in the foyer and ringing in her ears, he crossed the short space to the door, jerked it open and exited through it.
She didn’t move—couldn’t, even though Ben waited on her. Ross’s statement rooted her to the floor.
