Bonded Page 6

  He turned back to face her. He didn’t want to agree on anything. Not just yet. Goddammit, it was like one bomb a day was being dropped on him. He couldn’t think straight.

  “What I want to say is that I’m sorry you heard about it the way you did,” she continued. “And I’m not asking for or expecting anything from you.”

  Blue felt the skin around his muscles tighten. She wasn’t expecting anything from him . . .

  “I’ll see you around,” she said finally, then turned and started back toward the police station.

  Blue stared after her, utterly stalled. She was pregnant with his baby. She didn’t want anything from him. He felt like the world was caving in. Again. He’d been trying not to care—about anything. Not want anything. Just living under the radar. Shutting himself down—off.

  And now he had a child . . .

  He fought the urge to go running after her. But he had nothing to say or offer. Except maybe an apology of his own? For what he’d said to her now, and Christ, what he had said that night. About Natalie. No wonder she ran. No wonder she’d never crossed his path in the three weeks that followed.

  When she disappeared inside the jail, he turned back to the road. He had to get his truck; then he had to screw his head on straight and figure out what he was going to do next.

  Six

  “You running on batteries tonight or what?” Rae asked as she passed Emily on the way into the kitchen.

  Emily gave the woman a tight smile. “It’s busy.” But what she really wanted to say was If you stop, you think. And her thinks would only get her into trouble. Make her feel like crawling under the covers, eating pints of ice cream—and she didn’t do pity parties. Sure, she’d cried in the employee bathroom for a solid ten minutes before fixing her face and getting back on the floor, but after that it was all about making money. She had a family to support now. And whatever it took before this baby came, she was going to get that property and open her business.

  “Sure is,” Rae acknowledged with a glance around the room. “But I’d say you’re making double the tips than the rest of us are.” She looked Emily up and down and grimaced. “And frankly, honey, I’m not sure how you’re doing it. Despite that red rose you got tied into your ponytail, it ain’t your best night in the looks department, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

  Oh, why would I mind?

  “Not getting much sleep?” Rae lowered her voice, glanced around, then whispered, “Are you seeing someone?”

  Emily knew exactly what the woman was insinuating. “No. And no.”

  Rae shrugged. “Too bad. It’s really the only excuse.” Then she headed off toward her section.

  Grabbing her pad, Emily went to take orders from two new tables. But the first one she came upon had an unwelcome visitor sitting at it.

  “You can’t be serious.”

  Steven grinned sheepishly up at her. He was still wearing his uniform. He rarely came into the Bull’s Eye, and never in his uniform.

  “Can I buy you a drink?” he asked. “Shirley Temple?”

  She wasn’t in the mood for his cute act. “I’m working.”

  “I’ll wait.”

  She released a weighty breath. “I’m tired,” she said. “And I have a full house here. I don’t want to do this right now, Steven, okay?”

  “I don’t want to do this at all.” He gave her that look. That I-screwed-up-and-I-know-it look. He’d worn it, like, every other day when he was a boy. “What can I say except that I’m sorry? It’s something that happens to a brother, you know? It comes over us. This wolflike protective thing.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Emily could see that her new table of four was starting to get antsy. “Steven—”

  “I’m not trying to make excuses . . . well, shit, maybe I am.” He quirked his mouth. “Emmie, I just want to make sure you’re okay. Both of you.”

  Tears crawled up into her throat and scratched away. Damn him. She wasn’t going to cry on the floor tonight. It was unprofessional and in a bar setting like this one would absolutely kill her tips. She’d seen it happen. “Go home, Steven.”

  “Emmie . . .”

  “Go home.”

  He paused, then nodded. “Fine. But you forgive me, right?”

  Oh, what could she say? Really? This was blood. And like it or not, blood was thicker than stupidity and arrogance and acting without thinking. “Fine,” she said on a sigh. “If there’s a pizza in the oven and coffee Heath bar crunch ice cream in the freezer when I get home, then, yes, maybe I will forgive you. Crazier things have been known to happen when I’m in a carb-and-sugar comalike state.”

  He grinned, looked relieved. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” She turned away from him and headed for the four-top. Forgiveness, acceptance . . . it all came so easily in the Shiver family. No matter what someone pulled. Because really, what was the alternative? Stay angry and bitter indefinitely? That was no fun. And pretty much hell on the stomach lining. Her eyes caught and held on the round belly of one of the women at the four-top. And now that she was going to be a strong, capable, single mother, she had to keep her stomach lining—not to mention the rest of her—as calm and relaxed as possible.

  * * *

  Natalie smiled to herself as she slid the lined cookie sheet into the oven and closed the door. It was easy. So easy. All she had to do was watch . . . and wait. Let the chance present itself. And if today was any indication, things would come to her soon.

  The smile on her face slipped. Just a fraction. That woman—the waitress—she didn’t understand respect. Or men. One night didn’t make a relationship. One drunk night where Natalie was sure Blue was thinking only of her. After all, he’d mentioned many a time in his texts that he wanted to be with her, touch her, know her. If she would just reveal herself to him.

  Stupid diary. Stupid Cass Cavanaugh. She ruined things even from the grave. But . . . it was a momentary blip. Blue belonged to her. Admittedly, he was angry now. But he would come around.

  She would make sure of that.

  The scent of perfectly cooked macaroons drifted into her nostrils, and she slipped her oven mitt off the hook near the stove and opened the oven once again.

  Seven

  The sound that disturbed her sleep was mildly irritating, yet familiar. Emily stirred beneath the warm covers. Sleep wanted so desperately to reclaim her, and she wanted that too. Her body relaxed into the mattress once again. But someone or something was determined she wake.

  Bastards.

  She came alive with a groan, threw back the covers, and stood up. This time her groan stemmed from half a pepperoni pizza followed by an entire pint of ice cream. But seriously, what was a girl to do if she couldn’t have wine?

  Throwing on her robe, she padded over to the window. The sound that was forcing her awake was coming from the glass. Or something up against the glass. What was it? Rain? Tree limbs?

  “What in the world?” she exclaimed as a sprinkling of tiny rocks struck the window in front of her. She waited for another just to make sure she wasn’t having a middle school flashback. Not that any of the boys she might have liked back then took the trouble to come to her house and toss gravel at her window. But that was always the fantasy.

  When the rocks came again, splattering against the glass, she flipped the lock and pulled up the window. With the screen, she couldn’t really stick her head out very far, but she tracked the front yard with her gaze. Even with the half-moon, it was pretty dark. She couldn’t see anything but shadows and trees and—

  “Emily.” The voice lifted to meet her. The rough, male voice that after today she wasn’t quite sure she’d ever hear again.

  “Blue?” she called down.

  A figure stepped out from the shadow of the grand oak. A tall, imposing, devastatingly handsome figure that she recognized right away.

  Reflexively, Emily glanced over her shoulder. Dark bedroom, door closed. Silent house. She had to make sure it remain
ed that way. When she turned back, she called down in a strained whisper, “What are you doing here?”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “It’s . . . God, what time is it?”

  “Three,” he said without even a hint of an apology in his tone.

  She shivered against the cold air rushing in from the open window. “Can it wait until morning?”

  “Emily?”

  “What?”

  “I need to talk to you. Now, are you coming down or am I coming up?”

  Jeez, this was nuts. This guy was nuts. And stubborn. Way too stubborn. She sighed. “My father or my brothers will shoot you if they catch us down there.”

  “So I’m coming up, then?”

  Beyond stubborn! And with a possible death wish. “Make no mistake about it. They’ll shoot you up here too,” she added dryly. “You’re not going to climb this tree, Blue Perez. You’re over fifteen years old and—” She stopped talking when he completely ignored her and started walking toward the tree, and then she panicked when he hitched himself up to the first branch. Unbelievable. He was going to do it. “Okay. Stop. Wait a second—” She blew a breath. Dammit. “Get away from the house and back into those shadows. I’m coming down.”

  She didn’t even wait for a response. After closing the window, she tightened the sash on her robe, stepped into her UGG boots, and hurried downstairs. She made the journey as quietly as possible and, once outside, ran across the yard to the trees where she knew he was waiting. She was pretty sure she looked like death warmed over. Or at the very least, puffy and bloated. Thank you, pizza and dairy. But that couldn’t be helped.

  “It’s freezing,” she said, joining him under the heavy limbs of the oak. “How long have you been out here?”

  “Never mind that.” He took off his coat and put it around her. Then he reached for her hand and led her toward the driveway.

  “I’m not in the position to go anywhere, Blue,” she said.

  “Don’t worry,” he said as they reached the truck, which was parked back a ways and in the shadows.

  How covert, she thought. No wonder she hadn’t seen it from her bedroom window. “I see you got your wheels back.”

  “You mean I got back to my wheels?” he said dryly.

  Damn Steven. Why had she forgiven him so easily? With just the suggestion of carbs and sugar? “Hey, I did offer to drive you,” she reminded him.

  He opened the passenger door for her. “Come on. It’s warm in here.”

  She climbed in, and when he was sitting beside her, the truck running with enough heat so her teeth stopped chattering, she allowed herself a good look at him. As cold and as curious as she’d been, she hadn’t really stopped to see him properly. Her eyes did a quick sweep. He had on jeans as usual, but these ones were faded and molded to his powerful thighs. Up top he wore a thick cream sweater that set off his tan skin real nice. His chiseled features looked even more striking with the fine dusting of dark stubble. She remembered that he’d had that the night she’d left him in bed. Her insides softened. He’d kissed her with that stubble. And it had felt really good, raw. Her nostrils flared.

  “What are you doing, Emily?”

  “Hmm?” she mumbled.

  “Eyes are up here, honey.”

  As she realized what he was saying, and what she’d been thinking, heat surged into her cheeks. She dragged her gaze upward from his mouth. His very kissable mouth. “I’m still half asleep,” she explained. That’s right. Blame the staring on that. Good plan.

  “I know,” he acknowledged. “And I’m sorry about it. Three o’clock in the morning is not a friendly hour for anybody. It’s crazy and not fair to you, but the thing is, I can’t sleep. I can’t think.” Those eyes were serious now as they delved into hers. “I need you to tell me, Emily. Like this. Face-to-face.”

  Her brain was still foggy. “I don’t understand.”

  “You were going to tell me. Your brother got the news first.” He exhaled, ran a hand through his thick, dark hair. “I just don’t want anyone else to hear until I do—until you tell me.”

  “Oh . . . ,” she breathed, understanding now. He wanted to hear her say that she was pregnant. She blinked, feeling as though her lungs weren’t producing oxygen properly. “But you already know . . .”

  “I was coming out of a jail cell when your brother blurted out the news. And I retaliated by saying some really stupid and shameful and untrue words to you.” He shrugged. “Not exactly the way things like this should go.”

  “Glad you recognize that last bit,” she said, lifting her chin.

  “So.” He leaned in a little. “I’m asking you now . . . will you tell me?”

  Their proximity, the heat off his skin and coming from the vents—and the need she saw in his eyes—held her there, captive, unblinking. Barely breathing. A blade of fear slashed through her heart. It was odd, but she felt like the words he wanted to hear from her, the words she was about to utter, might connect them. In a way that felt strangely permanent. And though she was clearly attracted to him, she didn’t know where his head was at. Where his heart was at. Maybe he was seeing someone. Maybe he had plans with that person, for a future, for . . .

  She cut herself off. None of this was her business. It was one night. She didn’t have a claim on him. Hell, where was her head at? Her heart?

  Her eyes locked with his. “Blue. I’m pregnant.”

  For a moment he just stared at her, his thoughts unreadable. But then his expression relaxed and he nodded. “Thank you.”

  Thank you? She wasn’t exactly sure how she felt about that response. Not that she had expected him to jump up and down and say it was all he’d ever wished for. But maybe something besides . . . Thank you. “And again, I’m sorry about my brother, the jail.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Really?”

  He shrugged. “You know, if I had a sister . . .” He paused a second. “One that I knew and had grown up with anyway . . .”

  He was talking about Cass. She couldn’t imagine what was running through him about all that. The lost time. The wondering. The pain.

  “Well,” he continued, “I’d probably jail the guy who got her pregnant too.”

  “Well, that’s generous of you,” Emily told him. “But Steven will be leaving you alone from here on out. No threats, no pressure. Me either. Like I said earlier, you don’t have to do anything. You aren’t responsible for anything.”

  His expression darkened suddenly. “Why do you keep saying that to me? About my not doing anything?”

  “I don’t know,” she began, confused by his quick change of mood. Why was he so mad? She was trying to take the pressure off him. After all he was going through, might be a relief. “It was one night, Blue. We don’t have a relationship. We weren’t in a relationship. I don’t know your circumstances now, if you’re seeing someone . . . I don’t want to screw something up—”

  “I’m not seeing anyone,” he said definitively. “And that night, I wasn’t seeing anyone.” He looked away a second. “Not really.” When he turned back to her, his eyes were cobalt. “Whatever I said to you, it wasn’t because I had some great, unrequited feeling for someone else. It was because I was angry at myself.”

  Her heart kicked her chest. “Why?” she asked. “Because of Natalie? What you found in her apartment?”

  The news had spread far and wide about Blue and Natalie’s online romance and the fact that he’d found Cass’s diary in the woman’s house. But he didn’t look keen on discussing the subject. “What I’ll say is that Natalie Palmer is a liar. She’s dangerous.” His jaw tightened. “And I didn’t see it. Should’ve seen it.”

  Emily stared at him as the car’s heater kept pumping out warm air over her skin. The questions that hummed on her tongue . . . For goodness’ sake. And yet, she knew pushing him for answers was a bad idea. If Blue Perez wanted to tell her more, maybe he would . . . in his time.

  “I want to talk about you now,” he said,
his eyes serious and concerned as they probed hers. “How have you been feeling?”

  Strange. Tired. Slightly annoyed. And slightly turned on. “All good. Fine.”

  He nodded. “Have you been to see a doctor yet?”

  “I have an appointment tomorrow.”

  One brow lifted. “I’d like to know what he says, if you don’t mind.”

  Without her consent, a wave of disappointment moved over her. Realistically, she knew Blue wasn’t about to ask or demand to come to her appointment, but the feeling was there all the same. “’Course not.”

  “And how . . . everything is progressing,” he continued.

  “Sure. No problem.” Her smile was tight, forced. And the heater wasn’t working because she felt suddenly chilled down to her bones. “I should get back.”

  He looked momentarily dazed, but then his gaze cleared. “’Course. Listen, I’m sorry about the rocks on your window. Waking you up. I just couldn’t . . . I needed . . .”

  “It’s fine,” she assured him, reaching for the door handle. “I understand. I do.”

  Blue was out of the car in an instant and came around to her side. “Let’s get you back in bed, darlin’.”

  The words were meant exactly as they’d been spoken, but instead of taking them that way, she found they hummed diabolically inside her. She couldn’t help her physical reaction to this man. Call it the hots or call it appreciation, it had been there before and it was back with a vengeance.

  He took her hand then and started for the house. The cold night whipped around her, but all she could think about was how those warm, strong, callused hands had felt on other parts of her body.

  Idiot.

  You need sleep. And maybe therapy.

  When they reached the front door, Emily started to pull away. But Blue held her a moment before leaning down and giving her a quick peck on the cheek.

  It was simple. A little nothing. And yet the gesture spread through her body like wildfire. Blood pumped hot and heavy, and sleep was the very last thing on her mind. Lord have mercy, she needed to get inside before she did or acted without thinking.