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History always repeated itself. And Nash and her father were going to be in the same room together.
She must have looked worried because suddenly the warmth of Nash’s arms surrounded her. All the things she worried about melted away when he pressed himself tight against her, and the side of his mouth curved. “Breathe, Megan.”
She slowly let out a breath, not realizing she’d been holding it, and then took a couple more, some of her tension fading.
He watched her carefully then nodded firmly. “Better.” He cupped her face. “We’re gonna be all right.”
Like this. Close to him. She believed him. “Okay, let’s do this.”
He gave his easy grin. The one he gave to everyone, a grin that was strong and unwavering.
Figuring delaying any longer was only punishing herself, she entered the house and they made it into the living room. First, she noted her dad standing by the window, staring out at the fields. Which was always the position he stood in when trouble settled over the family. Her mom sat on the couch, drinking tea. Jenny sat on the dark brown chair, dressed in her Sunday best, looking ready for a game of bridge with the ladies.
Nash’s mom noticed them first. She glanced from Megan to Nash then to their held han
ds. “You’re getting married?” she exclaimed.
Megan sighed.
Nash tightened his hand on hers.
“Married?” her dad growled, spinning around with a glare that matched no other.
Her mom grinned, her tea cup halfway to her mouth, and her eyes wide with surprise. “Is that it? You’re getting married?”
She looked from her mom’s happy face to Jenny’s eager expression, then to her father’s scowl. Her throat had tightened, and all the words she planned to say suddenly couldn’t form. Confused, and winded, she looked up into Nash’s steady eyes.
He gave her a soft smile then glanced at his mother. “Megan’s pregnant. We’re having a baby.”
Three things happened simultaneously: Nash’s mom started clapping, rambling off a slew of happy words. Megan’s mom smiled. And her dad stomped his way over, his fists clenched at his sides.
Nash tucked Megan behind him, as if he needed to protect her from her father. Both her dad and Nash had egos the size of Colorado and enough testosterone to fill the state three times over, and tension pulsed through the air. Knowing exactly what was going to happen, Megan stepped to the side, waiting for the bomb to hit.
And boy, did it hit.
Dad inhaled sharply, then his voice boomed in the living room. “A Blackshaw. A goddamn Blackshaw, Megan.” A vein protruded out from the middle of his forehead, arms promptly folded over his chest. “Explain yourself. Now.”
She took Nash’s hand, trying to show a solid front. “I—”
“She doesn’t need to explain anything,” Nash interjected slowly, dangerously.
Dad’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Who says?”
“The father of her child says.” Nash puffed out his chest. “She’s mine now, Harrison. Deal with it.”
The protruding vein on each of their foreheads looked a second away from popping, and Megan sighed again. She moved to her mother, who was putting her tea glass down on the table. She had her typical “stay quiet and let’s see how this plays out” thing going on. Megan watched the two men staring each other down, knowing just like that, this was no longer about her or the baby. It was about them.
It was always about them.
Dad inhaled sharply, spittle forming in the sides of his mouth. “What are you going to do, boy?” he growled at Nash. “From what I hear, your ranch has taken some hits. How will you provide for her?” Dad turned back to Megan; that vein in the middle of his forehead looked to be pulsing now. “A goddamn Blackshaw. What is wrong with you? Have I taught you nothing?”
Nash took a step forward and warned him, “That’s the last time you’ll ever talk to her like that.” The threat was harsh and cold. Nash was dead serious. “You got a problem. Aim it at me.”
Most fathers would probably have respected Nash’s strength and protection over their daughter. Not Clint Harrison. His glare was deadly, and the hatred in his eyes was raw and oh-so-real.
Tears rose in Megan’s eyes. Yes, she’d expected this, but somehow she had hoped that how far she’d come with Nash would lessen this blow. It was like all the steps forward were gone . . . just like that.
All she wanted was for them to see her. For the hatred to stop. A tear escaped, and she quickly wiped it away.
