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Fucking the sergeant at arms’ sister and getting her pregnant could be looked upon as disrespecting both his brotherhood and her family.
If she wanted it, he’d be willing to run out and get her a morning-after pill, just to be safe. He doubted she wanted to be tied to him permanently and having his kid would do that. But to figure out what their next step should be, she needed to be willing to talk to him.
And, anyway, she had come out to the shed for a reason. That reason got derailed when she slammed him against the wall.
“Fuck,” he muttered, combing his damp hair back from his face with his fingers. He tipped the bottle to his lips and downed the remainder, letting the cool beer slide down his throat into his churning gut.
He waited a few more minutes to let the alcohol seep into his bloodstream, to help keep him calm because he anticipated a battle.
He tossed the bottle into the trashcan, took a breath, focused on her door and strode the eleven feet to her bedroom.
He listened.
Nothing.
“Jem...” He softly rapped on the door with a knuckle.
He waited. No answer.
“Jem. You had somethin’ to tell me. Guessin’ it was important.” It had to be for her to search him out. He only hoped whatever it was would get her to open the door and talk to him.
“Jem, come out and talk to me or I’m kickin’ in the fuckin’ door.” He grimaced at his demand. Jemma wasn’t a woman who’d put up with any kind of bullshit and forcing her to do something was the kind of bullshit she wouldn’t tolerate.
He heard soft footsteps, then the door cracked open. “You can’t afford to fix it.”
Right.
She knew how to stab him right in the fucking chest.
He expected a battle and she was willing to give him one.
He could only see a few inches of her in the gap. She was wearing the oversized T-shirt she slept in. Her long legs were bare. Her brown hair was pulled up in some sort of sloppy knot. Probably from her shower.
When she rid herself of him.
“Can I come in?”
She blinked at him through the three-inch space between the door and the frame. “It’s not a good idea.”
“Had somethin’ to tell me, Jem. Wanna hear it.”
“I—”
“Not from a fuckin’ gap in the door. You don’t want me in, come out and talk to me.”
The door opened wider and he let his eyes roam from her loose hair tucked into a hairband at the top of her head, down her pale face and over that damn T-shirt. One that probably had belonged to another man.
He wanted to fucking burn it.
If she wanted to sleep in a man’s tee, it should be his.
He ground his teeth so he wouldn’t spout that out like an asshole. It wouldn’t help the situation if he acted possessive.
Though, he wanted to. Fuck, he wanted to.
He wanted to throw her over his shoulder and march her right into his bedroom and make her sleep naked next to him. Where he could touch her, smell her, make her his.
It was where she belonged.
She just didn’t realize it yet.
But he was tired of being patient. Especially now that he’d had her. All that did was cement the idea that they belonged together.
She fit him.
And not just during sex.
She waited until he took a couple steps back before stepping out and closing the bedroom door behind her.
Why? He had no idea. He normally stayed out of her room. He let her have her own space, even as small as it was.
She moved to the center of the living room and turned to face him. The living room and kitchen were always a neutral space for them.
The worn cotton of that fucking T-shirt pinched at her hips when she planted her hands there and also emphasized she wore no bra.
No surprise, her guard was up.
Which raised his.
“Got somethin’ to say but you had somethin’ to tell me when you came out to the shed. Wanna hear that first.”
“Dyna okay?”
“She’s sleepin’.”
Jemma nodded. “It’s about her.”
His brow dropped low. “What about her?” Did he miss something? Did he suck at being a dad so much that he’d missed something wrong with his baby girl?
“I was offered an interview and I accepted it. I’ll need you to find someone to watch Dyna on Thursday. Or you need to stay home. I’m not sure how long I’ll be, but I do know I’ll be gone for hours.”
“Hours,” he echoed, plugging a hand on his own hip, letting his mind flip through his mental Rolodex of people who might be able to watch Dyna.
“Yes. It’s in Williamsport. It’s a good job and I don’t want to miss this opportunity.”
“Saylor can probably watch her for a few hours. Talk to Judge.”
