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And then, ever so slowly, ever so purposefully, ever so rudely—I shut the door in his face.
I hear the rumble of the laugh behind me and turn to face Trey. I set my suitcase down by the door and follow him to the other side of the room. By unspoken agreement, neither of us mentions Clay.
“That door goes to a closet area, there are a few hangers in there if you need to hang anything up.” He nods to the other door. “That’s your bathroom. There are fresh towels and even a spare toothbrush just in case.”
“Fancier than a hotel,” I tease.
Something that looks like interest flashes in his eyes. “We do aim to please.”
God, I am tempted to step closer to him. To see if it’s really interest I’m seeing, and not just kindness and humor that my pregnancy hormones have decided to interpret otherwise.
I mentally shake myself. What am I thinking? “Thanks for everything.”
“Sure. Let me know if you have any problems or questions. Otherwise, we’ll see you for breakfast. The crowd gets together around eight. Might be a good thing for you to come if you can manage it. That way I can introduce you around. Show off our reporter for the week.” He winks.
Dammit. He is flirting. The sexy bastard. “I’m sure I can manage.”
Amusement still dancing in his eyes, he leaves the room and shuts the door behind him.
I lie down on the soft bed and stare at the ceiling. This room—this house—might be disguised as an old, country-style cabin, but there is luxury hidden everywhere. I can already tell that the bed is nicer than any I have ever slept on. The rugs spread over the thick planks of hardwood floor throughout the house look a little worn around the edges, but I suspect that’s because they are some sort of original, handwoven art pieces rather than plain old rugs. I slide my hands over the quilt I’m lying on. Handsewn. Quality.
The Hollisters are rich, there is no doubt about it. What they aren’t, is ostentatious.
My mind whirls as I lay on the soft quilt with a full belly. I’m still so angry with Clay that I could spit. That’s not an expression I’d ever understood before, but I get it now.
I thought my research skills were under par, and that’s why I hadn’t been able to find the dude I’d somehow allowed myself to have a one-night stand with. The “Xander Hall” I had somehow created a life with. But he’d lied about his name.
And I don’t like being lied to.
I’d intended to tell him about the baby if I ever found him. But now I’m not sure I even want to say anything to him. The idea feels selfish to me, not something I ever thought I would’ve considered. But what kind of a man lies about his name and then skips out before morning? I’m a grown-up, I could’ve handled it if he’d wanted to leave in the morning. Heck, if he’d woken me up and simply said he needed to go, I would’ve handled it better. A simple note would have been fine.
No, I don’t owe this man anything. I’ll wait. I have a few days at the Hollister Ranch—even though my instincts are screaming at me to get out of here as soon as possible. But I owe it to myself, owe it to my baby, to find out what kind of guy Clay Hollister really is before I admit that I’m pregnant.
I have tell him, and soon. Keep this secret wouldn’t be right. But I can take a few days to judge what kind of man he is. To decide what I want before telling him.
A knock sounds at the door. It’s soft, but it startles me all the same.
My stomach knotting, I approach the door. With a deep breath, I open it.
Trey. Not Clay. I’m not entirely sure if I’m disappointed or relieved.
“You left your purse downstairs, and I thought you might need it tonight.” He holds my purse out, and I reach out and take it from him. My hand brushes his, and my low belly tenses, this time not with trepidation.
Our eyes lock, and I can tell that he feels it, too.
“Thank you,” I say softly. “Goodnight.”
After he says goodnight, I shut the door.
Damn. I have to watch out for that. I’m attracted to Trey too, which makes sense with them being identical and all, but it’s definitely inconvenient. And not something I can deal with on top of being pregnant.
Chapter 5
Trey
It doesn’t take me long to find Clay. He’s in the billiards room, where he always goes when he’s stressed or needs time to think. To my surprise, Joshua is with him. But Joshua isn’t playing pool, nor is he talking to Clay. Instead, he’s sitting on a chair in the corner reading a book. Not shocking. Joshua listens and watches far more than he speaks. It’s a trait that Clay doesn’t share.
Clay’s glances at me. “Get it over with.”
