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“Oh God. You’ve already had sex with him.”
/> Regan’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. “What the hell did you think we were doing for twenty-four hours?”
Silence greeted her outburst. “I’m not a prude, Regan. I hope you were smart about things and used protection.”
Regan’s cheeks burned. They had used protection, but not the first time. Or the second. It wasn’t until they’d come out of the incredible sex haze that had settled over them that she’d realized her mistake.
Sure, she was on the pill. Sure, he claimed he wasn’t hiding any nefarious STDs. But still. She was a doctor, for God’s sake. She counseled teenagers on being responsible, yet one touch from Wyatt Blackwell and all her good sense had gone out the window.
And then to hear that he’d been at the Coach House, slow dancing with Daisy Miller…
Her mother was right. She was an idiot. Tears sprang to the corners of her eyes and she swiped at them angrily.
“Regan?”
“I have to go, Mom.” She put the car in Drive.
Her mother sighed, and that made Regan feel worse. “I just worry about you, and I want you to be happy.”
“I know.” And she did. She and her mother had a history of butting heads, but they always had good intentions.
“Are you okay?”
“Never better,” she quipped.
“This wasn’t about dinner. Although I would appreciate a heads-up if you’re not coming. We might have ordered in Chinese takeout.”
“Noted.”
“I love you, sweetheart. Just be careful. Your heart is worth more than you know. Don’t give it away to someone who doesn’t deserve it.”
“It was just sex.”
Her mother’s voice lowered. “It’s never just sex with someone like Wyatt Blackwell. Be careful.”
Again, the tears stung her eyes. What the hell was wrong with her? “I really do have to be somewhere.”
“I love you, Regan.”
She cleared the lump from her throat. “I know, Mom. See you on Sunday.”
She tossed her cellphone onto the seat and headed out of town. The Bergens lived in one of the new subdivisions that had sprung up around the golf course on the other side of the lake. She’d been so pleased to learn Patrick had been released, and when Brad called to let her know, she’d accepted his offer of dinner. She couldn’t wait to see the little guy.
By the time she crossed the bridge and headed for Crystal Lake Road, darkness had fallen and her mood had improved substantially. That was the effect one darling little, Patrick Bergen had on her. If she could do anything to make him smile, or ease his mind, she would. She turned to Bella.
“Ready?”
She’d put a Redwings sweater on the dog because the Detroit team was Patrick’s favorite. Bella jumped into her arms, and she headed for the house. There were two trucks in the driveway and a sinking sensation hit her stomach as she stood on the porch and rang the doorbell. She glanced back at the black truck. She knew the red one was Brad’s.
It couldn’t be… Could it?
The door opened, and Brad greeted her in a Budweiser apron and a spatula. He had on a cowboy hat, and an unlit cigar was clamped between his teeth. “Right on time.” He stood back, and she walked inside. Their home was big, open, and spacious. Decorated in light creams and grays, it was soothing and contemporary.
“Gwen’s in the kitchen, and I need to grab the stuff off the barbecue off back. Western night, if you couldn’t guess. Patrick likes it when we have theme nights, so who am I to say no to my son?”
Her heart melted. A lot. For such a big guy, he was all mush when it came to his son.
“You and Bella want to get Patrick? He’s in his bedroom with Wyatt.”
