Page 43 of Unsure in Love

I smiled sweetly, and he shook his head. Hand still on my lower back, he said, “Let’s go.”

As we walked back to the car, I glanced up at him. He seemed to be taking in our surroundings. I supposed it was something he naturally did, being a security expert and all. He helped me into the car and then got in.

“Damian?”

He met my gaze. “Yeah?”

As always, my breath hitched and my heart shimmied. My reaction to him was definitely something to worry about. It showed how much trouble I could get into—trouble of the emotional kind.

Swallowing hard, I said, “I know I was a total asshole earlier about you coming along.”

He grinned. “Uh-huh.”

“Hey, you’re supposed to deny that I was an asshole,” I joked.

“And lie to you? No way.”

I had to purse my lips to hide my smile. It was a scary thought, but Damian was a perfect balance for me. He handled my antics like a pro. “Anyway. I’m glad you came. Thanks.”

He held me captive with his intense stare for a moment.

I expected him to gloat or say something along the lines of I told you so. However, he only gave a single nod and said, “You’re welcome.” Then he gently chucked my chin. “Now, let’s get you some chamomile or ginger tea.”

“Those are specific.”

“They’re good for relieving nausea,” he explained as he reached across to buckle my seatbelt before I could do it. “And they’re safe during pregnancy.”

Recovering from his proximity and his lingering delicious scent in my nostrils, I lifted an eyebrow. “You’re an expert on pregnancy now?”

His cheeks took on an adorable hue of pink. “I know it’s only been a couple of days, but I’ve been reading stuff…” His gaze dropped to my stomach. “...Since I found out.”

“Oh,” I breathed.

There went the barrier I kept firmly around my heart cracking open a little more.

17

CASS

“I can’t do this.”

Damian turned to look at me. We sat in his SUV across the street from a two-story white and gray colonial-style house. The suburban neighborhood was lined with similar houses, perfect green lawns, and white picket fences.

“This was a stupid idea,” I said, more to myself than to him. “I should have just called.”

Dark eyes moved over my face. With the sunlight filtering through the window, the rich espresso color of Damian’s eyes was more visible. I was always captivated by how dark his eyes looked in certain lighting that they appeared like onyx pools. It was crazy that even in my emotional distress, I had time to admire Damian’s eyes. I had it bad for him—worse than I thought.

“Why didn’t you call?” he asked.

Teeth sinking into my lower lip, I shrugged. “I think I was afraid of giving him a heads-up because he’d run.” I was shocked that I’d shared that so easily. After our first stop when I freaked out, seeing how genuinely concerned he was for me softened me toward him some more. A lot, actually… I felt comfortable showing a little vulnerability now.

“Why do you think that?” he asked.

“I barely know the man, but that’s what he does,” I muttered. “He runs.”

But why had he run away from us, his children? That had been my burning question since I was four.

My fingers tapped out an agitated rhythm on the center console. Damian rested his hand over mine and laced our fingers. I stared at our connected hands, feeling my anxiety fade. His presence was just so comforting.

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